


Dark Bars And Desperate Measures

by quizasvivamos



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blangst, Drama, Excessive Drinking, Famous Blaine, Famous Kurt, Jealous Blaine, M/M, Musician Blaine, Recreational Drug Use, Rock Star Blaine, Rock Star Kurt, Romance, Vocalist Kurt, kblreversebang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4036330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quizasvivamos/pseuds/quizasvivamos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the conclusion of their sophomore year of high school, best friends Kurt and Blaine make a pact to get out of Lima and escape to New York City together, a place where dreams are said to come true. Nearly six years later, feeling stuck during his final year at NYADA and desperate to prove his worth, Kurt forms a rock band, enlisting the help of Blaine. While hurtling along on the fast track to fame and fortune, a clashing of egos, jealousy, and latent feelings threaten to derail all they’ve been working toward.</p><p>Warnings: light drug use, excessive drinking, brief midgame Kelliott</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic for the Kurt/Blaine Reverse Bang 2015, and it was inspired by bluefire's beautiful and totally badass art. :)

Each time the soles of Kurt’s boots fell heavily on the pavement, slapping dully with every step and sending shocks up his calves and shins, he felt an ever heightening sense of urgency, and then he heard his professor’s words echoing in his head…

_“There’s no niche for someone like you. You’re extraordinary, Kurt, which is to say, it’ll take most people time to see it.”_

He could feel his lungs burning from the exertion, but all he wanted to do was put more distance between himself and the school, and if he kept moving, he might not cry...

_“Put yourself out there, take risks. You don’t have to change yourself, but you’re going to have to convince them that you’re their man through and through, and perhaps no one is as fearless as you.”_

He’d been struggling and dealing with the same thing his entire life, but he was sure that New York would be different and somehow kinder and more accepting. Despite the praise his teachers and professors often gave him about his talent and abilities, the hard truth was that Kurt was not leading man material. He would never be cast opposite Kate Hudson or pegged as an action hero or soldier. He wasn’t buff, he wasn’t traditionally handsome, and he could hardly pass for straight if he tried, and there were many times in his life that he had.

But now that he was in his final year at NYADA, Kurt knew he had to do something drastic. His mind was reeling and his legs were aching when a display in a storefront caught his eye, and he skidded to a halt, doubling back to peer in through the clear glass. Without hesitation, Kurt entered the small corner shop, the bell on the door jingling as it swung open and then back against its frame.

He wasn’t exactly sure what had drawn him to this place, but as he gazed around at the plethora of electric guitars and other instruments hanging from the walls and set up around the store, something suddenly occurred to Kurt.

As a performing arts major at NYADA, he was by no means a stranger to music, though he wasn’t much of an instrumentalist but a singer. It was his roommate and best friend whose talent he often envied. He’d often return home to their apartment to Blaine practicing on his acoustic guitar or on the small piano they were lucky to have procured at a flea market. He’d always been like that, a natural when it came to playing music and gifted with a voice to match.

Kurt was a vocalist and a performer, and that was okay. But Blaine was a musician and a songwriter, and they both attended NYADA with different concentrations, which is why they rarely saw each other on campus and never had classes at times that coincided.

What had occurred to Kurt as he stood in the dimly lit music store, surrounded by drum kits and amplifiers and guitars, was that he could take a risk and prove that he wasn’t just the pale, skinny gay boy with the high voice: he could start a rock band.

Maybe it was a crazy idea, completely ludicrous and impossibly impractical, but he didn’t care. He could show the world that there was a harder, grittier side to him, that he wasn’t all silk scarves, Westwood, McQueen, and perfectly coiffed hair. Kurt was a star, so why couldn’t he be a rock star? It may take a little tweaking of his style, but Kurt thought that perhaps it was finally time for a makeover.

Almost as quickly as he’d entered the store, he left it, taking off at an even quicker pace, racing back toward his apartment with even more urgency than he’d left the school. Checking the time on his phone, Kurt knew that, barring unforeseen circumstances, Blaine should be there.

Kurt threw the door open, and Blaine sat up, his eyebrows rising and eyes widening in startled confusion.

“Blaine, I need to talk to you,” Kurt said breathlessly, drawing nearer. There was a fire in his eyes, and his entire body was buzzing with a sort of crazy energy. “I want to start a rock band.”

“You what? You want to start a band, a rock band, and you’re - you’re serious?” Blaine said, rising slowly to his feet.

“Yes!” Kurt practically shouted. “Sorry, but, yes. Completely serious.”

“But you’re so Broadway and top 40 and always have been. What changed? Where did this idea even come from?”

“It just - came,” Kurt said. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Now, I know you think I sound insane, and I know I feel insane, but I think that with your help, I could really create something worthwhile, and I could finally prove to everyone that I’ve more than showtunes and Gaga in my soul. I’m more than that, Blaine.”

“Wait a minute, with my help?” Blaine said slowly.

Kurt nodded. “You know full well that I can sing, and I have a talent for fashion and looking good, so brand recognition will never be an issue, but I’m pretty hopeless when it comes to the actual music.”

Blaine let out a laugh. “Alright, but I’m not fully convinced that this just ‘came to you’. What happened when you went to see Professor Caulfield?”

Kurt sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping and body collapsing, and then his brow furrowed as he spoke. “He told me what I’ve been hearing my entire life. I’m odd, Blaine. I’m the ugly duckling in a sea of swans, forever doomed to remain on the margins and never let into the ponds of those graced with normal looks and otherwise - the ponds being the industry.”

“C’mon, Kurt. I doubt that’s what he said. Besides, the ugly duckling becomes the swan,” he added quietly.

“He didn’t say that exactly, but it felt like it to me. The truth is that he told me I need to be bold and take more risks. People like me need to put ourselves out there and make even more of an effort than others because I’m ‘extraordinary’.” Kurt made air quotes and rolled his eyes. “It sucks, Blaine, but then I realized that I can do that, I can be bold, make a statement, and show that there are more sides to me than what the world can see. And that’s why you’re looking at the frontman of the next big thing, the next up and coming New York-based rock band.”

“Kurt...” Blaine paused for a moment. “Here, come, sit down,” he said, gesturing toward the couch.

Kurt did as he was told, and then sat upright on the edge of the cushion, unable to relax, crossed his legs, and quirked an eyebrow questioningly at Blaine.

“First of all, I don’t think you’re insane, not even a little bit,” Blaine began.

“But?” Kurt interrupted.

“There’s no but. Believe it or not, when you first mentioned it, I had this sort of vision of you up on a stage, center stage in the spotlight in all your glam and glory, rocking out in front of a sold-out stadium. And it’s exciting to think about.”

“We came here to do the impossible, right?” Kurt cut in again.

“We did, and just by getting here, by living and going to school in the city, we’ve already done it and beat most of the odds,” Blaine said.

“Then what’s stopping us from defying the odds even more, Blaine? What’s stopping us from becoming something far greater than ourselves?”

Blaine was quiet for a while, as if considering everything Kurt was proposing. “Nothing,” he said simply and truthfully. “Nothing’s stopping us. Honestly, Kurt, you had me at ‘I want to start a rock band’. I’m in. I’m totally in. Let’s - let’s do this.”

Kurt beamed, jumping up from the couch, and then wrapped Blaine in a tight embrace.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! God, this is going to be amazing, I can just feel it.” Kurt pulled back, looking Blaine in the eye. “And even if it doesn’t work out or completely flops, then at least I can say I tried, right?”

Blaine nodded. “Yeah. But you won’t. Fail, that is.”

“Here’s hoping.” Kurt took a deep breath and turned to retrieve his tablet from the small round table that served as their dining area in their small apartment. “Before I get ahead of myself, I need to create an ad for auditions. We’ll need a few more people, and I’m sure NYADA is crawling with stifled, hidden and not so hidden talent, and people who crave the spotlight as much as I do and just need an outlet.”

Blaine watched over Kurt’s shoulder for a moment as Kurt plugged in his tablet, opened his drawing and design program, and then sat pen poised in his hand, staring at the blank page on the screen.

Beginnings were always tough, taking the initial leap and making the first mark that had the potential to grow into something far greater. But he had to start somewhere, and Blaine always admired his best friend’s resilience, strong will, and ability to see the things the world could offer him but didn’t, and rather than getting down about it and accepting defeat, Kurt created and built those things for himself. Because he knew he deserved better than what he’d been dealt thus far, and he’d stop at almost nothing to achieve it.


	2. Chapter 2

“I just want to thank you again for helping me out with this,” Kurt said, handing Blaine half his stack of flyers. “Not that this doesn’t affect you as much as it does me.”

Blaine chuckled, looking down at the image and text that Kurt had spent the last week creating and then printing. “I told you I’d be there with you every step of the way with this thing, and I meant it.”

“I know, it just still feels so weird and unreal. I think once we get through auditions, I won’t feel like I’m in some strange fever dream anymore.”

“We should post one over by the dance studio,” Blaine suggested. “You never know who might happen upon it and be interested.”

They made their way around the main buildings on campus, hitting every bulletin board they could find, and once every audition flyer had been posted, Kurt was satisfied, brushing his palms together and letting out a soft sigh.

“Now, we wait.”

“Yep,” Blaine said, placing a hand on Kurt’s shoulder.

“I hate waiting!” Kurt said, squirming a little. “I managed to get room 306 of Wilson Hall for the auditions, but the soonest it was available was next Thursday and then not again until next month. Do you think people will actually show up? Did I give them enough notice?”

“They will, trust me. This is a performing arts school, so you’re bound to get at _least_ ten people.”

“Don’t you think they might find this all a bit juvenile?”

“Not at all, and stop doubting yourself and this whole thing. It’ll work out, because you want it to, Kurt. Whenever I see you want something this badly, you make it happen.”

“Yeah, I guess. Alright, let’s go home.”

“But first, you promised me sushi!” Blaine said, holding his index finger up in a matter-of-fact manner.

Kurt placed a hand over his stomach. “Yes, yes, and good thing, because I’m starving.”

-s-

The day of auditions came, and Kurt sat, leg jiggling nervously beneath the table, his phone out, obsessively checking the time every few seconds.

“There’s still ten minutes, Kurt. Stop worrying,” Blaine said, briefly looking up from his own phone on which he was checking his Twitter.

“I’m not worrying. What are you talking about?”

“I can see you out of the corner of my eye, and the entire table is shaking. You already know at least a few people are going to show since they emailed you ahead of time. Just calm down.”

Kurt stilled his leg and narrowed his eyes at Blaine, crossing his arms over his chest.

Just then, someone stepped through the doorway, and Kurt sat bolt upright, his full attention on the newcomer.

“Hey, are you here for the auditions?” Kurt said, his voice higher than usual. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah. This is for the, uh, rock band, right?”

Kurt nodded almost too enthusiastically. He set his elbows on the table, laced his fingers together, and set his chin atop his fingertips. “What do you do?”

“I sing.”

Kurt swallowed hard, and Blaine looked up, sitting up as well and focusing his attention.

“Go on then,” Kurt said. “I assume you prepared something? Show me what you can do.”

The auditions went on in like fashion, most people only interested in being a vocalist, until Kurt had to explicitly state that they had that role filled and needed people who could play instruments. Perhaps he hadn’t thought it completely through when he’d created the ad, but then a man came through, guitar in hand, who caught Kurt’s attention from the second he first stepped over the threshold.

“I’m Starchild,” he introduced himself.

“Your name is Starchild?” Blaine said dubiously, leaning forward a bit in his seat.

“No, it’s Elliott - Gilbert - but Starchild is my stage name.”

“But you play guitar,” Kurt blurted out, his eyes locked on Elliott’s face before shamelessly raking his body.

Blaine saw Kurt practically drooling over the man, and he was tempted to point out that _he_ played guitar, so wasn’t that spot already taken? But he kept his mouth shut, reluctantly nonetheless, and it took a whole lot of self-control.

“Go on,” Kurt said, gesturing for Elliott to begin.

He played, and he played so well that even Blaine was blown away. On top of that, the guy clearly had stage presence and this rock persona that he’d already developed, from the leather boots on his feet to his glittery makeup and the hat on his head. Blaine knew that both he and Kurt would have to either tone this guy down or amp up their own style to look like a cohesive group. But he knew for certain that they needed him if they were going to have any success, and they could learn a lot from Elliott. As much as Blaine was already beginning to hate the way Kurt was leering at Elliott, the man was exceptionally talented as well as edgy and attractive in an almost Edward Cullen-esque way.

“You’re in,” Blaine said as the final chord rang out and before Kurt could snap out of his mesmerized state to respond.

Kurt turned, surprised at Blaine’s quick judgment, but he agreed completely.

“Yeah, we want you in the band, definitely,” Kurt added, finally finding his voice.

“Thank you,” Elliott said, taking a slight bow. He flashed them a dazzling grin, and Kurt nearly swooned. “I’ve been trying to find something like this for a while. This is excellent. So, when do we start?”

“Just leave your information with us, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we’ve figured everything out. Do you go here, to NYADA? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around campus,” Blaine said as Elliott came forward and began to write his contact information on the call sheet.

“No, I applied and auditioned, but I never made it in. I go to NYU, actually.”

“Oh, well then I’m really glad you somehow stumbled upon our flyer,” Kurt said. “I guess you were just in the right place at the right time.”

“Are there still people out there?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah, a few,” Elliott said, peering out into the hall. “Thank you again. I’ll send the next person in,” he said, stepping to the side, and then he exited.

A few contenders later, and a young woman with blue hair entered the room. She introduced herself, Blaine recalling her name from an email, and then looked around at the instruments in the room, promptly pulling drumsticks from her back pocket and taking a seat behind the drum set.

“If you can keep a beat, you’re already in,” Kurt said, overjoyed that there was finally someone who played the drums, a rare thing to come by.

“I’ve got this in the bag then,” she said, and then proceeded to play a few beats.

Kurt stood and applauded her when she was through. She rose from the stool, returning her drumsticks to her pocket, and approached the table.

“Dani, right?”

“That’s right.” She placed her hands on her hips, and tossed her hair over her shoulder with a quick turn of her head.

“You’re perfect,” Kurt said, then turned to Blaine. “Isn’t she perfect?”

“Welcome to the band,” Blaine said, offering Dani his hand to shake, which she took briefly.

They took down Dani’s information, and then she left with as much confidence as she strutted in there with. She would be a great addition to the band, and it would be nice for it to not be a total sausage fest and to have a woman who was more badass than any of them.

“I do believe we’re finished here, don’t you agree?” Kurt said to Blaine. “We found a drummer and another guitarist who can also sing, which could make it possible to write some lovely, layered harmonies into our songs, and I think a four-piece band will work out nicely.”

“Yeah, it’s good,” Blaine said noncommittally. Kurt looked at him, his face almost contorting into a full on grimace. “What’s that look for?”

“I was being serious, Blaine. Aren’t you glad it’s all working out and we found some true talent? I thought you’d be overjoyed.”

“Yeah, um, I am. I’m sorry, I was just thinking about something else, but, yeah. We’re definitely set to start.” He grinned close-mouthed at Kurt.

-s-

“I just got off the phone with Dani and Elliott,” Kurt said, approaching Blaine where he was reclined with a book on the couch.

“Both of them? Were they together or something?” Blaine said, an amused smile taking over his face.

“No, not like that. I called Dani, and then I called Elliott. Guess I should have worded that differently. But, anyway, they’re both game for going out for drinks tonight, so we can all get to know each other better and everything.”

“What? Kurt,” Blaine started, closing his book and sitting up. “You didn’t even ask me before you made plans?”

“Well, I knew you didn’t have class tomorrow, since it’s Sunday, so,” he said. “Is there a reason you don’t want to go out?”

“No, not really. I just wasn’t expecting to.”

“You’re not gonna make me go alone, are you? I’ll feel so awkward,” Kurt said, pouting.

Blaine imagined Kurt out at a bar, cozied up next to Elliott in a booth or at the bar on the adjacent bar stool, and he rose to his feet, discarding his book on the coffee table. “Of course not. I’ll come along, especially since I’d like to find out more about our new bandmates too.”

“Thank you, Blaine! I promise it’ll be fun,” Kurt said. “I’m going to get ready now.” And Kurt was off toward his bedroom, a slight skip in his step.

While Blaine readied himself for their night out, he tried to figure out what irked him so much about Elliott. Did he think he would be replaced and no longer needed in the band? No, not really. But Kurt seemed really into this guy, a stranger whom he knew practically nothing about, and Blaine was wary of the man. He’d seen how Kurt was with guys he liked, and he didn’t want to see him heartbroken, even though Blaine was always there for him to pick up the pieces. Kurt didn’t really date much, but Blaine just had a gut feeling about what was to come.

About an hour later, they were both on the subway train, hurtling on down the track towards Greenwich Village. Elliott knew of a great place, Kurt had told Blaine, and there was even terrible karaoke for their amusement. Blaine wasn’t picky about going out, and anywhere in the Village was okay with him. Not only was there a large LGBTQ population there, he knew that’s where most of the NYU students hung out, so it was generally a good crowd.

Once inside the dark bar, Kurt located Elliott and Dani, who waved them over to the table they’d managed to secure despite how busy the bar was.

“Hey, Kurt, Blaine,” Dani greeted them. “We already ordered drinks, but if you guys wanna go flag down the bartender -”

“I got it,” Blaine said. “Your usual, Kurt?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, sit, relax. I’ll be right back.”

Kurt smiled his thanks, and then Blaine turned and headed for the bar.

When he turned back around, drinks in hand, he nearly spilled them as he stopped short, his stomach turning at the sight he was taking in. If there was such a thing, Blaine could have sworn he saw literal sparks shooting from Kurt’s eyes as he laughed and spoke enthusiastically with Elliott who was exuding just as much energy. He wasn’t sure why it was making him so uneasy, but he hurried back to the table, touching Kurt’s arm to grab his attention after he set his drink down.

“Thank you,” Kurt said, his smile now for Blaine, “you know me so well.” Kurt took a sip of the cocktail, and Blaine settled down into his seat next to Kurt, feeling a little more in balance.

“I was just about to tell the story about my first _garage_ band,” Elliott said with a laugh. “It wasn’t so much an actual garage band, because we had to practice in an old shed. It was more of a mess than anything. None of us had any formal training on our instruments, and we were mostly just fooling around.”

“I feel you on that,” Dani chimed in.

“What’s great is that we even recorded songs - on a cassette tape! We thought is was all uber punk and hipster. We thought we were so cool and fringe,” Elliott added, laughing through his story.

Kurt smiled and laughed, listening attentively all through the story, shaking his head at the end.

“I’ve got one for ya,” Dani said, and they turned toward her. “When I was maybe fourteen, my friend and I decided to start a band, sort of a chick rock duo. My friend, she played guitar, though really just power chords. I had gotten my first drum set that past Christmas, and we thought we were so badass. Turns out we were more interested in each other than playing music. Practices consisted of long makeout sessions and not much else. Oh, those were the days,” Dani said with a sigh.

“That’s fantastic,” Kurt said, lightly slapping the tabletop as he laughed.

“That is pretty good,” Elliott agreed. “Beats my story.”

“Sounds romantic, sort of,” Blaine commented.

“We sure thought we were in love. It wasn’t long before we went our separate ways, and she started dating the head of the debate team. I’ll admit, he was handsome and smart, so I can see why she left me behind,” Dani said.

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Kurt said. “But a girl as beautiful as you, surely you’ve met someone else since?”

“Oh, I’ve had several gorgeous female suitors, but no one who really stuck. Maybe some day. But, enough about me. What about you, Kurt? Blaine? Do you have any fun tales of your first experiences with music and performance? Perhaps of the banging on your mom’s pots and pans with a wooden spoon variety?”

Blaine stirred but didn’t respond, but Kurt enthusiastically stepped up to the plate to deliver a fond memory.

“I don’t exactly come from a rock and roll background,” Kurt began, “though we did sing a lot of Journey and Bon Jovi in my high school glee club. I wasn’t cool like you two, but I did have some crazy times during rehearsals and show choir competitions. Most of all, competition was fierce within the group itself, our show choir, The New Directions. There was one member in particular named Rachel, and she was brutally ambitious, with a stop-at-nothing-to-get-what-she-wanted personality. Naturally, she wanted solos. Every last one of them. She would have been content to have us all sway in the background behind her and sing backup, but I wouldn’t let that happen. I challenged her on several occasions, and I had to fight her every step of the way to prove myself and to prove I was worthy to the rest of the group. It was intense and disheartening most days, but, in a way, it was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I don’t think I would be as much of a fighter as I am now if it wasn’t for her. Besides, we ended up as sorta friends by the end of it all.”

“What ever happened with her?” Elliott asked. “Are you still friends then?”

“As far as I know, she lives here in the city too, but she dropped out of NYADA and took the fast track to Broadway.”

“Of course,” Dani said, rolling her eyes and taking a few sips of her drink.

“I haven’t talked to her in a while though, so I’m not really sure if she’s moved on to something entirely different. I’m sure she just expects me to follow her career and rise to stardom.”

“Those types always do,” Elliott said.

Blaine listened quietly to each and every story, his mind wandering to the past as Kurt spoke, but he didn’t have anything he thought worth sharing, or, at least, didn’t have anything he felt comfortable enough talking about with the group just yet. So he sat there, continuing to drink, and then began to tune the others out as he tuned into the horrendous karaoke playing not too far off on a small stage at the end of the bar. It wasn’t long before he’d had enough and wanted to go home.

And Kurt, now on his third drink, was giggling uncontrollably, his cheeks rosy and eyes glassy. It was clear he was having a great time, and it was good to see him so at ease with new people.

Blaine’s eyelids were feeling heavy, mostly from drink, but also from how draining socializing had been and feeling like he had to constantly look out for Kurt who was known for doing some foolish things while intoxicated.

Blaine placed his arm on the table and leaned in toward Kurt.

“I wanna go home, Kurt,” Blaine muttered near his ear. “I’m tired.”

“But we were just about to have more fun,” Kurt practically whined, pouting dramatically.

Blaine began to leave his seat. “You don’t have to come with me -”

Kurt laid his hand on Blaine’s arm to still him. “No, I’ll come with you. I think both of us have had a little too much to drink to be wandering the city alone.”

“It’s too bad Elliott doesn’t live anywhere near us, because I’m sure he could have walked you home,” Blaine said pointedly. “Then you wouldn’t have to cut your night together short.”

“Yeah, no can do. Sorry, guys,” Elliott said. “We’re in my neighborhood, so it would make no sense for me to leave it.”

“It’s been one hell of a night with you guys, though,” Dani said. “I hope we can do this again soon.”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Blaine said as Kurt rose to stand beside him.

“Goodnight, guys,” Kurt said, and then he wobbled on his feet. “Whoa. I may have overdone it just a leetle.”

“That’s alright, I got you,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s arm to steady him.

“You?” Kurt said through another giggle fit. “You can barely hold yourself up. This is going to be an interesting trip back to the apartment.”

“At least I can still see straight enough to read signs,” Blaine said, looking right into Kurt’s eyes, and they both burst into laughter, seemingly at a joke which Elliott and Dani were unaware of.

“See you two later! Be safe!” Elliott called after them as they turned to finally part with the pair.

Once out on the street, Kurt ended up doing the guiding, Blaine partially leaning his weight on Kurt, playing drunker than he actually felt. Blaine felt triumphant, like he was somehow currently winning as he allowed Kurt to take control and escort him home to the apartment they shared.

“I had so much fun, wasn’t that so much fun? I’m happy that Elliott and Dani are so nice and awesome, and I kind of wish we had all sung karaoke,” Kurt said.

“Maybe we should have,” Blaine said, and he was being sincere this time. “We’ll start practices soon, and then we can jam to your heart’s content.”


	3. Chapter 3

Band practices were going well. Being that their apartment was too small a space and there were neighbors to worry about, Kurt was able to borrow a rehearsal room at NYADA to use on a regular schedule. They’d begun with a few cover songs, just to get into a groove with something familiar, and then they eventually broached the subject of original music.

“Blaine and I have been discussing it a lot, and, while I’m a performance major, Blaine studies theory and composition here at NYADA and has been writing music for a while. Therefore, it seems to make sense that Blaine should primarily be in charge of songwriting,” Kurt explained to the group.

“I can have something written by the following week when we get together again,” Blaine assured them, confident of his ability to produce something in a short space of time.

“I think that’s great,” Elliott said with a smile. “I’m a little rusty on the writing front myself, so I’m all for giving Blaine the reins.”

“It’s fine by me,” Dani said. “And if it sounds good to you guys, I’ve already been thinking about where we can play our first gig, really start to get our feet wet. I have a friend who manages a bar a few blocks from here, and I’m sure I could totally get us a spot to perform.”

“This is all excellent,” Kurt said, rubbing his hands together in his excitement. “I think we got some really valuable practice in today, so I’m letting you all free now.” As they began to pack up, Kurt lent a hand with the equipment, and then with his parting words added, “Keep us updated, Dani, and we’ll keep you guys updated about Blaine’s progress. Have a great evening, and see you next week!”

-s-

Kurt had been on the phone for a few minutes, his conversation muffled, barely audible through the thin walls and closed door. Suddenly, he burst into the main room, calling out to Blaine, who turned in his seat.

“Blaine! Great news! You have to hear this.” Kurt set his phone down flat on the table and activated speakerphone. “Go ahead, Dani.”

“I booked the gig! Next Saturday, we’re playing at Pink Panther. It’s just a little place, but it’s a start. Nora was all about it and giving us a chance. If they like us, they might even invite us back.”

Kurt beamed at Blaine, and Blaine jumped up from his seat, reaching forward to hug Kurt, but froze, pulling back last minute. Instead, he placed a hand on Kurt’s upper arm and gave it a quick, gentle squeeze, and Kurt let out a laugh tinged with confusion.

“That doesn’t put any pressure on me or anything,” Blaine jested, tugging at his collar, attempting to break the awkward moment. “It’s a good thing I’ve already written some lyrics, though they still need some tweaking.”

“I just wanted to share that, but I need to get going. I’ll leave you to work!” Dani said. “Bye, Kurt - bye, Blaine!” She hung up the call, and Kurt scooped his phone back up off the table.

“I need to text Elliott now,” he said, pulling up his contacts. “Can’t leave him out of the loop. I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic as well.”

“You do that,” Blaine said. “I suppose I really should finish that song, but I’m starting to get hungry. What do you say about celebrating our first small victory by ordering a pizza?”

“You’re just using that as an excuse to not cook, though you never really do,” Kurt teased. “I’m kidding. Of course I want pizza. What do you take me for?”

“I’ve never known Kurt Hummel to turn down pizza, so you had me worried for a second there. Don’t scare me like that,” Blaine said.

“What are you waiting for? Chop chop! Hop to it! They aren’t mind readers down at the pizza parlor,” Kurt said.

Blaine laughed. “I’m on it, Captain,” he said, saluting Kurt, who saluted him back before they both began to chuckle and Blaine grabbed the phone to place the order for delivery.

After dinner, during which they caught up with each other on school and work, Blaine retired to his room, pulling his acoustic out of its case to work out the rest of his song. A few hours later, his eyes burning from exhaustion, Blaine had a complete first song. He didn’t think it was anything special or that it had much depth, but it was kind of catchy, so he wanted to at least try it out with an audience just to gain the band some attention.

-s-

A light spring rain was falling, the sun still peeking through the clouds, and Kurt adjusted his umbrella with the angle of the drops, continuing his trudge through the puddles forming on the cracked and sinking sidewalk. His rain boots squelched as he stepped around a couple and through a small muddy plot beneath a tree, quickly returning to the center of the walk before pulling out his cell phone from his bag.

The rain wasn’t supposed to keep up for long, so Kurt had decided to brave the weather to go on a shopping trip. He was on his way to purchase something new for their upcoming show, not realizing until he was out and about that he had no idea where to shop for anything remotely rock star-esque. So he pulled out his phone and texted Elliott, certain that he would have at least a few recommendations.

_Hey, are you free to talk? I need some help._

**_Yeah. What is it?_ **

_Where can I get some badass clothes like yours?_

**_Lol. Are you asking me where I shop?_ **

_Yes. Yes I am._

**_I make a lot of my clothing, but might I direct you to Schott on Elizabeth St? It’s a bit pricey, and I don’t know what your budget is like. You could always find something in the shops along Orchard St. But don’t just go into any shop in the city that looks like it sells leather. Trust me._ **

_Oh...?_

**_Do you really need me to enlighten you?_ **

_Please do. I’m intrigued. ;)_

**_I don’t know if I should feed your curiosity. What I mean is just try not to end up in any kink stores by accident._ **

_Ah, but what if it’s not an accident? You don’t know what I’m into..._

**_Wow._ **

_Haha. It’s fun messing with you._

**_Hey, no judgment here even if you weren’t. Just...the mental image I just had..._ **

_Now you’re making me blush_

**_Then it’s mutual. Sorry._ **

_Don’t be :)_

**_Well, I’ll let you get your shopping done and I’ll ttyl._ **

_Ttyl! :D_

Snickering and grinning impishly, Kurt slid his phone back into the pocket on his bag. He hadn’t intended to flirt with Elliott just then, but when they’d first met, Kurt felt instant attraction, and the little crush he had had been growing with each passing day. It had been a while since Kurt let himself feel this way about someone with such abandon. He was now at a point where he couldn’t go minutes without thinking about him, finding it increasingly difficult not to mention his name is every conversation. Knowing that he hadn’t scared Elliott off with the texts, Kurt wanted to further entertain his fancies to see how Elliott might respond. He liked him, maybe even adored him, and Kurt wanted to know where things could go between them, if there was a chance at anything at all. At the next subway entrance, he hurried down the stairs, closing his umbrella as he did, and then located the correct train that would take him across town.

-s-

The lock on the door clicked, and Kurt pushed it open and walked in with a garment bag from a store Blaine couldn't identify. Usually Kurt shopped at the same places, but the icon on the bag was completely unfamiliar.

"What's that?" Blaine asked, sitting up and leaning forward.

"Oh, it's a new jacket. A leather jacket. I figured if I'm trying to be a rockstar, I ought to look the part. Fake it 'til you make it, ya know?"

"Can I see it?"

"Sure." Kurt draped the bag across the coffee table and tore the plastic open, peeling it back to reveal a shiny, black leather jacket. The lapels were broad and elaborately decorated with a mosaic of metal studs, and similarly, there were studs on the shoulders that looked like spikes, almost like an armor. It had several other details, some intricate, and, although very unlike Kurt, it was somehow very Kurt.

Blaine was intrigued but a bit baffled as he continued to examine the jacket, running his fingertips over the metal accents.

"You're awfully quiet," Kurt finally spoke. "Do you not like it?"

"It's nice," Blaine said. "Looks expensive too." He swallowed and then looked up at Kurt. "It's a big change."

"I know, but I thought it was necessary."

"Kurt?" Blaine said. "Just, uh, please don't change too much?"

"I promise you I won't. After all, it's just for show, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Blaine said with a small laugh. "Just a costume. Something you can take off at the end of the performance and at the end of the night and still be you."

"There’s something going on with you, Blaine,” Kurt said after a stretch of silence. “Are you afraid that something's going to happen to our friendship because of this band?” Blaine shrugged but didn’t answer. “Because I want you to know that I've always been here for you, and I always will be, Blaine. I have absolutely no intention of leaving you behind. Every door we go through, we go through together. Every success we have, it belongs to both of us. No matter what happens, I'm not saying goodbye to you. You mean too much to me. And besides, you know too much about me," Kurt jested. "If I was ever to become famous, I'd have to keep you by my side to prevent possible blackmail."

Blaine laughed with sincerity this time. "I can’t argue with that.”

“I’m gonna go hang this up in my closet. Can’t have anything happening to it.” Kurt grabbed the hanger and lifted the remains of the bag with the jacket.

“Are you making dinner tonight?” Blaine said.

“Yeah. I was gonna take a stab at that bacon cheeseburger bake your mom gave us the recipe for.”

“Mm, I can’t wait,” Blaine said, his mouth already beginning to water at the thought. “That was always one of my favorite dishes of hers. Just don’t make it better than she does, or I might have a bit of a crisis. On second thought, please do. Man, I’m hungry, and I didn’t realize it until now.”

-s-

Kurt’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, causing Blaine to look away from the television. Kurt had gone to bed nearly an hour ago and was already sound asleep, so disturbing him to give him his phone wasn’t something Blaine had any intention of doing. Nothing could be that important, right? Unless it was Burt or Carole. Glancing at the screen, he saw that the source of the buzzing was an incoming text message, and he made a split-second, rather hasty decision to grab the phone and read it just in case.

_**So, I keep thinking about our conversation earlier, seems to be all I’ve been thinking about all day. I’m sorry I’m messaging so late, and I hope this doesn’t scare you off, but I would really like to spend more time with you. Can I take you out this weekend?** _

Blaine’s stomach twisted uncomfortably and lurched, and his face contorted into a grimace as he read through the text from Elliott. He clapped a hand over his mouth, setting Kurt’s phone back down while fighting the urge to throw it across the room at the wall.

He knew it. Blaine knew there was something going on between them, he’d have to be blind not to see it. It sickened him that it was all going on behind his back, because Kurt always told him everything. He was his best friend, and they never kept secrets from each other.

Blaine didn’t like what was going on at all, and he contemplated deleting the text. But that was wrong, and what an awful thought and thing that would be to do to Kurt. It wasn’t any of Blaine’s business, and he knew better. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by the sleeping man in the next room.

When the episode of the show he was watching ended, Blaine turned off the television and headed to bed, leaving Kurt’s phone where it sat.

-s-

Kurt was up long before Blaine the next day, rising with the sun to shower, and then made his way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and coffee. He knew that once he put the fresh pot on and had some butter sizzling in the pan, Blaine would wake up like smelling salts had just been placed under his nose, and Kurt knew exactly when to wake him for classes.

Sure enough, just as the last few drops were dripping into the pot, Blaine exited his room, stretching with a yawn, scratching his stomach as he approached the dining table and plopped down into a seat. He looked expectantly at Kurt, and Kurt just smiled, turning the burner off and placing a plate with an omelette and toast before Blaine.

“Thanks, Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice still thick with sleep. He lifted his silverware and wasted no time digging in, spreading butter on his toast and hacking away at the delicious smelling combination of eggs and melted cheese.

Kurt set two mugs down and poured their coffee out, taking his own in hand as he finished up cooking his own breakfast, flipping it with the turner so the other side could cook. Once it was done, Kurt turned off the stove and slid it onto his plate so he could join Blaine at the table.

Kurt set his plate of food down and took a seat. “We were out of bacon, so I had to settle. But it’s three-cheese, at least.”

“It’s delicious,” Blaine said, being careful to chew and swallow beforehand. He knew how much it skeeved Kurt when he talked with his mouth full, so Blaine always did his best to respect him in that manner, even when they were in the privacy of their own home.

“How was The Daily Show last night? I’m sorry I just couldn’t keep myself awake to watch it with you. I was really exhausted for some reason,” Kurt said through a yawn, almost as if the thought made him tired all over again.

“It was great. You know, Jon Stewart is always hilarious.”

“Maybe I’ll catch up on de - oh, I think I left my phone on the coffee table last night,” Kurt said.

Blaine froze, coffee mug halfway to his mouth. He took a sip, setting it back down, and his gaze dropped to the tabletop. “Yeah, I think I remember seeing it there.”

“Good, at least I didn’t lose it,” Kurt said, setting his fork down and leaving his seat to begin cleaning up.

“Yep,” Blaine said. “At least you didn’t lose it,” he muttered, echoing Kurt.

-s-

Kurt was leaving dance class when he felt his phone vibrating in his bag. He fished it out, his stomach swooping when he saw the name on the caller ID, and he beamed as he answered the phone to Elliott.

“Hey,” he greeted shyly.

“Hey, Kurt.” Elliott sounded a little apprehensive.

“Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

“I was just wondering...I was waiting for your answer.”

“Huh? About what? I don’t remember you asking me anything,” he said, knitting his brow in concentration as he tried desperately to recall what Elliott might be talking about.

“The text I sent last night...? About this weekend?”

“Hold on one sec...” Kurt pulled his text messages up on his screen and sure enough there was a message from Elliott sent around quarter to eleven. Kurt read through it, feeling his neck and face flush and his breath hitch and heart begin to race. He brought the phone to his ear again. “Oh. I must have missed it. I went to bed early last night. It’s strange how I never received a notification...”

“I’ll admit I was worried that you hadn’t responded,” Elliott said with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah. I mean, yes. My answer is yes, to your question,” Kurt said hurriedly. “I would love to go out with you this weekend.” He felt dizzy just uttering those words.

“How is Friday night?” He could hear the smile in Elliott’s voice now.

“Friday night is perfect.”

“It’s a date then.”

Kurt let out the breath he was holding. “It’s a date.”

It all felt so surreal after Kurt ended the call and began to make his way home. It dawned on him, again and again, and each time it hit him anew, his excitement continued to grow.

There was a skip in his step as he came through the front door, and he hummed happily and sang to himself as he tidied up the apartment a bit, awaiting the arrival of Blaine.

When Blaine walked through the door, Kurt barely gave him time to close it behind him before he practically pounced, buzzing with the high and excitement of the news he wanted - _needed_ \- to share with Blaine.

“Elliott asked me out!”

Blaine blinked and then forced a smile. “That’s wonderful! And you said...?”

“Yes! I said yes!”

Blaine swallowed thickly, his heart plummeting into his stomach. But, still, he wore that plastic smile.

“He wants to go out Friday. That only gives me three days. What am I going to wear? Can you help me pick something out? I’m not even sure where we’re going yet. Maybe he’s trying to surprise me. I wonder if he’ll expect me to pay...” Kurt was rambling, talking a mile a minute, beginning to pace, and Blaine took a few steps toward the table to set his bag down.

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter.”

Kurt paused, taken slightly aback. “What doesn’t matter? I’m going on a date, Blaine. All of it matters.”

“Yeah, it’s just a date. There’s no need to be so anxious about it. He obviously already likes you, so you don’t have to try so hard or worry yourself to death over it.”

“I know, but you know me. I want to look like I just stepped off a catwalk, and it’s important to me to present myself a certain way, because when I look good, I feel good.”

“Well, you always look good,” Blaine said, unabashed. “You somehow make sweats look like couture.”

Kurt grew quiet. “Thank you. That’s a really big compliment.”

“It’s true.”

Kurt blinked rapidly, his eyelashes fluttering, and he turned away from Blaine, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

“Before I forget, I wanted to ask you something.” He turned back around, his arms crossed, wrapped tightly around his torso. “Did you hear my phone last night?”

“Wha -? Your phone? No, I don’t think so. I don’t remember hearing it,” Blaine said, his pulse quickening.

“That’s odd,” Kurt said, though his expression was fraught with suspicion and doubt. “Elliott texted me last night, and my phone never sent me a notification, like it was already read or something.”

“That is odd,” Blaine said, feigning confusion. “Maybe the iOS needs an update? Phones get glitchy like that sometimes.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s it,” Kurt agreed, deciding it was best to drop the subject.

-s-

The latter half of the week was excruciating for Blaine. Everything was “Elliott” this and “Elliott” that, and it got to a point where he almost told Kurt to shut up already. He didn’t, though, intent on being the supportive friend, and shouldn’t he be happy for Kurt? Elliott was a nice guy, and Blaine knew it now, which somehow made it tougher to deal with and accept.

When Friday came, Kurt spent at least an hour readying himself for the date, and when he was finished, Blaine took him in as Kurt spun around to display his outfit, completely baffled by how Kurt managed to look even better than usual. It may just have been his perfectly tailored pants or the way the material of his shirt flowed but still hugged his frame to show off his long, lean torso, broad chest and shoulders. He looked good, really good, and Blaine sat there staring dumbly before he realized Kurt was still awaiting his final approval.

“You look very handsome,” Blaine said. “Elliott won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”

Blaine certainly couldn’t look away, and he rued the moment he had to.

“Thank you! I told him I’d meet him halfway, so I’m gonna head out now.” Kurt hesitated, took a step toward Blaine, leaned in, and gave him a lightning-quick peck on the cheek. “See you later tonight!” He waved goodbye and was off.

Blaine’s cheek burned the entire evening, and when his initial shock passed, his resentment began to grow, forced to stew in the knowledge that Kurt was out with another guy, and Blaine had been left behind to spend his Friday night alone.

He settled in on the sofa, flicking the television on for some background noise, and grabbed his laptop with no intention but to kill time. And time was unrelenting, crawling by as his imagination ran wild.

Blaine snatched his phone up, opened his ongoing text conversation with Kurt, and started typing. When Kurt responded, Blaine grinned, taking that as an invitation to continue sending him texts. And he did. All through the night.

-s-

When Kurt returned home from his date, it was nearly one in the morning, but Blaine was still up, propped up on his elbow, dozing on the couch. He’d waited up for Kurt, which Kurt found both very endearing but also very irritating, considering the fact that Blaine so brashly and repeatedly interrupted his date.

“At least I now know there’s nothing wrong with my phone’s text messaging, thank you very much,” Kurt said in a huff, hands on his hips.

Blaine jumped, blinking his eyes open and sitting up. “I was worried.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“And why on earth did you think it was okay to text me nonstop when you _knew_ I was with someone? Elliott thought there was some sort of emergency, and when he found out it wasn’t, he got really annoyed with me.”

“I saw something on the news about a gay bashing, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. Can you blame me for being concerned?”

“We didn’t go very far, and in case you’ve already forgotten, I’ve taken self-defense classes _and_ I wasn’t alone. I could have handled myself even without Elliott, so I’m still not buying it, and I don’t appreciate what you did.”

"Well you didn't have to respond to the texts," Blaine said.

"What?! Yes I did, or your crazy ass probably would have called the police and filed a missing persons," Kurt all but yelled.

Blaine couldn't argue with that, and he just stared Kurt down.

“You know it’s a bad idea, Kurt.”

“What?”

“Actually, it’s not just a bad idea, it’s completely stupid, thinking it’s okay to date someone in your band. Don’t you know what happened with the White Stripes? They were married and ended up divorced.”

Kurt groaned in frustration. “But the band stayed together. It was civil.”

“Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best example. Fleetwood Mac. They fought and had all kinds of problems because of in dating and affairs,” Blaine said.

“They wrote some of their best songs because of it,” Kurt retorted.

“They were still a mess. Members came and went like Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers,” Blaine said, raising his voice a bit.

“Still not making a point, Blaine.” Kurt crossed his arms and stood his ground, entirely unamused.

“ABBA! Two marriages split, and then the band split!”

“Fine! But you’re still being ridiculous, because there are so many bands that had members date and break up, and it never affected their music or the band’s commitment to each other.”

“I just don’t want to see what you’ve worked so hard for fall apart. You want this so bad, Kurt, and dating Elliott could be a mistake.”

“If it is, it’s a mistake I’m going to make. I like him, and there’s nothing you can say that’s going to change my mind. Why can’t I be happy for once?”

“You were unhappy? And he...he makes you happy?” Blaine said slowly, his voice growing softer.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“So you really enjoyed the date then.”

Kurt nodded. “It was nice. We have a lot in common, though you wouldn’t think so at first.”

“Are you sure you’re not just making it up in your head, because Elliott is this new and exciting thing, like a flashy new toy?”

“Why do you have to go and say things like that? What’s your problem, Blaine? Quite frankly, you’ve been such an asshole lately,” Kurt said.

“I’m just trying to look after you!” Blaine shouted, Kurt’s words hitting a little too hard, cutting a little too deep. He composed himself, and then spoke more calmly, “Like I always have. At least, I feel like I’ve always had to.”

“Well, you don’t! I’m a big boy, Blaine, and I’ve never needed you to keep me safe or keep me in check. If it’s a mistake, then let me make it. And if I need you, I’ll let you know.” Kurt quickly crossed the floor to the open door of his bedroom, stepping just inside before pausing. Hand on the knob, he turned around one last time. “Goodnight.” And then he slammed the door shut.  

-s-

Kurt came and went as usual, though his end of the semester schedule was a bit more hectic than before, but he still found time to make side trips and spend nights out or private nights in at Elliott’s.

Not having Kurt around the apartment like before was really beginning to get to Blaine. It was too quiet, too empty, and suddenly felt much larger than before, and after a long day of classes, errands, or composing, it had always been really nice to have someone to come home to and talk to who was always interested and willing to share their life and the account of their day with him too. Since high school, he and Kurt had practically been joined at the hip; they did everything together, like going to shows and movies, going out to eat, swapping magazines and DVDs and watching television series together so both were always caught up on the latest gossip, trends, and who Blair was currently dating or what crazy things the girls had done that week. Blaine had even joined the glee club at Kurt’s request, and they’d spent many an afternoon and evening together rehearsing, making sure they got every little note and dance step right.

When it came to dating, they even experienced the ups and downs of first boyfriends and the pangs of first heartbreaks together. Kurt had been there at some of the lowest points in Blaine’s life, and Blaine had been there for Kurt through bullying and threats, through his father’s illness and recovery, and through every personal struggle he faced with coming to terms with his identity as well as what path was right for him for his future. Blaine liked to think that he was a constant source of support, Kurt’s biggest fan besides Burt, and now it felt like Kurt didn’t need him anymore. Worse yet, Blaine knew he’d upset Kurt, and now he wasn’t so sure Kurt wanted to be around him.

It didn’t help that every time Kurt returned to the apartment, a dazed and blissful expression on his face, one look from Blaine often turned the smile into a smug smirk, and any questions Blaine dared ask were answered snidely or in a very short manner. On occasion, Kurt would give a detailed account of his date, emphasizing and dramatizing just how wonderful it all was.

So it came as a surprise to Blaine when Kurt agreed to let him throw him a birthday party in their apartment.

A few weeks passed, and both were so busy that time seemed to fly. The second semester of their senior year drew to a close, concluding their time at NYADA, and graduation was the last thing to worry about before virtually boundless freedom. For the summer, Kurt and Blaine had plans to propel the band forward and to really take it to the next level, perhaps even get a chance to record an EP. Their parents would surely cut them off now that they’d completed college, and it would help to begin making money with their music, to be compensated for the time and hard work they were putting into it.

At the end of the month, they celebrated Kurt’s birthday, and it was the first time in a long time that Kurt seemed genuinely happy to be in Blaine’s presence, as if nothing had happened between them to disrupt their friendship. Kurt loved the boots Blaine bought him, and he even thanked him with a hug in front of Elliott and all his guests.

Band practices were more frequent when June rolled around, and with the sun and longer stretches of daylight and an abundance of free time, came longer, more strenuous rehearsals. They’d played a few gigs at two different bars, but now it was really time to get serious if they wanted to get noticed and expand their audience.

At the conclusion of one of their sessions, Elliott slid his guitar strap off his shoulder and set the instrument aside on its stand. “Can I have everyone’s attention?”

He’d already and almost always had Kurt’s rapt attention, but Blaine and Dani looked up from their seats and grew quiet, giving him the floor.

Elliott rubbed his hands together and gently cleared his throat. “So we’ve been going at this band thing for a few months now, and I’m really digging our sound, thanks especially to Blaine’s lyrics and musical stylings.”

Blaine grinned proudly, a bit surprised, slightly lifting his chin at the mention.

“But I have a request that strays a bit from the way we’ve been doing things.”

“What is it?” Kurt asked, an eager smile on his face, his eyes alight.

“I wrote a song.”

“What -?” Blaine began, but Elliott went on.

“And I would really like to sing it at our next gig. If it’s okay with everyone, that is.”

“Of course -”

“Whoa, definitely not,” Blaine snapped, cutting off the approval of Kurt and Dani. All eyes turned on him, furrowed brows and looks of skepticism alike.

“What’s the problem now?” Kurt asked, quirking an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

“First of all, Kurt’s the lead vocalist,” Blaine said, directly addressing Elliott and pointing with the guitar pick in his hand. “And second of all, I write the songs. It’s the way it is, and it’s always been the way we do things. I think you need to not forget your role in this band.”

Dani raised her eyebrows and looked away, not wanting to get involved, but Kurt rounded on Blaine, closing some of the space between them.

“That’s a terrible attitude to have, especially coming from someone who had to experience the tyranny of Rachel Berry back in high school. You sound just like her right now, and I honestly can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. If Elliott has something more to offer to the band, then there’s no reason why we shouldn’t let him have his moment in the spotlight. I’m okay with it, Dani’s okay with it, so it looks like it’s just you. Being ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry,” Elliott began. “I didn’t know it was going to cause so much of an issue -”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Kurt said. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Neither have I,” Blaine said stubbornly. “How is this okay?!” He held his hand out like the problem was obvious, and why couldn’t Kurt and Dani see it?

“Give Elliott a chance, alright?” Kurt said to Blaine, attempting to reason with him. “We’ll hear what he has, and if we don’t like it, we don’t have to play it.”

“Fine,” Blaine said, looking away toward the windows.

“Besides, you’re outnumbered in this situation anyway. Why don’t we act like a team? We need all our players to be happy and to bring what they can to the table, and it wouldn’t hurt for you to remember how important that is. You should have taken something away from those three years with Mr. Schue.”

Blaine sat there in his indignance, avoiding eye contact with the other three, and he felt an ache in his chest and a lump rise in his throat. He tried to chase away the assailing thoughts and the feeling that he’d just been teamed up on and singled out, and it hurt. It hurt to think that maybe Kurt really had changed and grown away from Blaine and that he liked Dani and Elliott more than he liked Blaine now. Was he losing Kurt? Was this really how it was going to end?

-s-

A few days later, the band assembled to rehearse again, and Elliott arrived prepared to share his original song. He distributed the music so everyone could look it over and follow along, and Blaine halfheartedly picked up his bass and moved off to the side. Kurt remained seated and watched, not yet having a distinct part to perform, but he was content to relax and watch for once.

They played through the song a few times, and each time, Blaine refrained from rolling his eyes at Elliott’s over-the-top choreography and the way he practically made love to the microphone whilst making eyes at Kurt. Kurt applauded enthusiastically each time, and it didn’t go unnoticed when Kurt winked at Blaine.

Grateful to finally be done with it, rather than taking a seat and a water break like the rest, Blaine remained standing, pulled out the folder he usually carried his compositions in, and then turned toward the group.

“I wrote a new song,” Blaine announced. “It’s not like my usual stuff, so if you don’t mind, I want you all to listen first.” He retrieved his acoustic guitar and sat down on a stool by the stage. “Since we’re all about trying new things lately, I would also like to play lead and sing on this one.”

“You never mentioned it to me,” Kurt said, looking wide-eyed at Blaine. “I really wanna hear it now.”

“Your wish is my command,” Blaine said, and then he began to play.

_“In absolutely no position_

_To be so needlessly unkind_

_When I'm the one writing this fiction_

_Make it real in my mind_

_It drives me crazy in the morning_

_Who is this monster in the mirror?_

_I try to get the steam to fog it out_

_But I just can't get it clear_

__

_Oh, and I can't stand what I'm feeling_

_It's just like poison in my veins_

_I know that I'm speaking_

_But I don't know what I'm saying_

_'Cause every time that I feel like the world just got lighter_

_It seems that my muscles give out_

_It's got nothing to do with me_

_It's not even you, you see_

_It's part of my chemistry_

_It's this jealousy...”_

 

Blaine strummed the final chord and then looked back up at Kurt first, and then to Elliott and Dani.

“I get it,” Dani spoke first. “It’s got this kinda gritty, honest vibe to it. I could rock it.”

“Personally, I don’t really like it,” Elliott said, shaking his head. “It’s too mellow, and it doesn’t really suit our image or sound.”

Blaine leaped up from his seat, knocking the stool over, quick to jump down Elliott’s throat. “Oh, really? Mr. Scream-into-the-microphone-because-my-clothes-aren’t-loud-enough-and-everyone-should-be-looking-at-me, me, _me_ , Elliott _‘Starchild’_ Gilbert!” Blaine said in one breath, inhaling sharply.  Blaine made his way across the floor, now mere inches from Elliott’s face. “My song is too mellow? Yours is way over-the-top, and it’s like you’re trying too hard!”

“Whoa!” Kurt cut in, standing up abruptly. His eyes were fearful, and he was actually afraid that if he didn’t break it up, it might come to blows. “That’s enough! Both of you! I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Blaine - or you, Elliott - but this can’t happen, this nonsensical fighting.”

“Don’t for a moment think I’m not on to you, Anderson,” Elliott said. “Like I don’t see what’s been going on here.”

“Excuse me?!” Blaine gasped. “What’s been going on, Elliott?! Tell me if you seem to know it all! What is -”

“I said enough!” Kurt shouted above them this time, straining his voice in the process. They fell silent, and Blaine backed off, chest still heaving and red in the face. “I think everyone needs to just cool it.” Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose and then shook his head. “You know what? I don’t want to work with either of you right now, so I’m cutting the rehearsal short. So, everyone just go home, walk it off, I don’t know, punch something,” Kurt directed at Blaine, “but _not_ each other, and try to get over whatever it is that’s causing you to act like animals before next practice, especially since our next show is this upcoming weekend.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt,” Elliott said. “I let him get the best of me.”

“We’ll talk later,” Kurt said. “But, please, just, go. Now.” And then, after a beat, he mumbled, “I have such a headache.”

Elliott gathered his things, Dani followed suit, and Kurt turned away as they left the room. When he finally turned around, he saw Blaine watching him, his rage completely subsided and eyes shining and sorrowful and filled with remorse. Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Kurt held up his hand.

“Let’s just go home.”

-s-

The small section of the club was packed and noisy, and Kurt was scoping out the bar, hoping to get a glimpse of some of his friends from school to whom he’d extended invitations. It was too dark to see much or make out faces, and they only had minutes to finish setting up before their scheduled start time. It was alright though, because he planned to get a drink later, and maybe then he’d find them and do a little catching up.

Kurt adjusted his jacket, flipping the lapels forward, scuffed his boots on the stage, and then looked up, scanning the crowd again as he adjusted the microphone and took a series of deep, steadying breaths. The amplifier momentarily squeaked, and then there was the familiar hum of the equipment when it was all plugged in, powered up, and ready to go.

“Good evening, everyone!” Kurt spoke into the mic. “I’m not going to waste your time. We came here to rock, and we hope you did too. Without further ado, we are Infernal Seventh.”

They played through the first few songs in the set, Kurt on the main mic and Elliott and Blaine on backup, and the nightclub patrons really seemed to be enjoying the music. Some even got up to dance in front of the stage, and Kurt fed off of their energy and the positive vibes coming their way in order to deliver an even more powerful performance.

They took a brief break but then got right back into the music to finish out their set. The final song on their setlist was Elliott’s song, and Kurt stepped back to give him the main mic and allow him to do his thing and shine.

And Elliott did more than shine, he was dazzling as he sang out the words and melody.

_“So I got my boots on,_

_Got the right amount of leather_

_And I'm doing me up with a black colored liner_

_And I'm working my strut but I know it don't matter_

_All we need in this world is some love”_

_“There's a thin line 'tween the dark side,_

_And the light side, baby tonight_

_It's a struggle, gotta rumble, tryin'a find it”_

_“But if I had you,_

_That would be the only thing I'd ever need_

_Yeah if I had you,_

_The money, fame and fortune never could compete_

_If I had you,_

_Life would be a party, it'd be ecstasy_

_Yeah, if I had you...”_

His gaze turned unmistakably on Kurt halfway through the chorus, turning his body to sing directly to Kurt, who played along, moving closer to Elliott and singing his heart out in harmony.

_“From New York to LA getting high, rock and rolling_

_Get a room trash it up 'til it's ten in the morning_

_Girls in stripper heels, boys rolling in Maserati's_

_What they need in this world is some love_

_There's a thin line 'tween the wild time,_

_And a flat-line, baby tonight_

_It's a struggle gotta rumble, tryin'a find it”_

Elliott sang through the chorus again, his voice cracking with emotion, and then he chanced one last glance at Kurt who was back in his original position, singing into the backup mic back in its stand a few feet to his left and a step back on the stage.

_“The flashing of the lights_

_It might feel so good_

_But I got you stuck on my mind, yeah_

_The fashion and the stage, it might get me high_

_But it don't mean a thing tonight...”_

Most members of the crowd, drunk and sober alike, rose to their feet with a standing ovation, and it was almost deafening. Kurt could have sworn he heard someone scream, “You can have me, you can have me all night long!” at Elliott, and Kurt laughed through tears of joy that had sprung to his eyes in the midst of such a positive response from this assortment of strangers. He could feel the love radiating from them, and together, they took a bow before blowing kisses into the audience and exiting the stage.

When they were in a more secluded area of the club, Kurt noticed that Elliott also had tears in his eyes, but it was soon obvious it wasn’t for the same reason as Kurt, and Kurt’s stomach turned at the realization.  

He placed a comforting hand on Elliott’s back, unsure of what level of affection was okay to show him in this moment, and then Kurt grabbed Elliott’s hands and pulled him toward him, briefly, tenderly kissing his lips.

Blaine turned away from the display, allowing himself to be dragged off by two young women who wanted autographs and to buy a drink for and chat up the hot, slightly sweaty bassist.

“Kurt,” Elliott began, finding it difficult to speak.

“You were fantastic, Elliott. They adored you, and I do believe your song is what they’ll remember most about this night, not anything I sang.”

“C’mon, that’s not true. You were so amazing. You have a stage presence like no other, and you don’t need the costume like I do.” Elliott smiled at Kurt but soon turned somber.

“What’s wrong?” Kurt spoke softly, the question he needed to ask but also dreaded the answer to. “I can sense that there’s something you need to tell me.”

“I - “ Elliott hesitated and sniffled. “I don’t want to do this, but we need to call it off, Kurt. I really care about you, but we can’t date anymore.”

“What? You’re breaking up with me?” he said, barely a whisper.

Elliott nodded, wiping at a tear he desperately tried to hold back. “Being with you - being your boyfriend is wonderful, but I can’t do it anymore.”

“Why? What changed?” Kurt said, fighting to suppress the sickening swirl of emotions inside his chest and stomach that made him feel like he was about to become violently ill.

“Nothing changed, Kurt. I still feel the same way I always have about you, but it’s not enough. If you can’t see it now, you will one day. There’s someone else who wants you and is going to cherish you and give you things I can’t offer. I can’t compete, and the battle and drama that comes with being with you isn’t worth it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I need to -” Kurt choked on his words, not comprehending the meaning behind Elliott’s. “I need to use the restroom.”

And he was off before he completely lost it in front of a nightclub full of strangers.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt was absolutely drained the morning following the gig at the club, and it took a lot to drag himself out of bed. When he finally walked bleary-eyed, rubbing at them as he went, into the main room, his gaze fell on Blaine, who was lounging on the couch in nothing but his boxers.

“Well that‘s not a sight I expected to see first thing in the morning. Nice to see you’re staying classy, Blaine,” Kurt said.

Blaine merely grunted and rolled over onto his side, and Kurt laughed, shaking his head as he shuffled over toward the couch by Blaine’s feet.

“Scooch over so I can sit, y’ lump,” Kurt said, and Blaine shifted his feet and legs, curling up into fetal position before finally sitting up.

"There comes a point when you need to put on pants and go out into the real world. Am I there yet? Not at all, but, alas, I need to go to a doctor’s appointment," he said, almost as if reciting some profound Shakespearean line.

"Have fun," Kurt said through a laugh. "I'm glad I'm smart enough not to schedule something like that on a Friday."

Kurt’s eyes followed Blaine as he rose from his seat and trudged toward the bathroom, and then he took the opportunity to pour himself a cup of coffee from the pot, leaning against the counter as he took the first taste.

The water in the shower began to run. Blaine called out through the open door. "I wish I hadn't done this to myself, but they didn’t have times available any other day for like another month." Blaine hesitated, peeking his head out. "So what are your plans for today?"

Kurt sipped his coffee. "I don't know. I think I'm feeling that Lazy Song vibe too, and I wanna relax and Bruno Mars it - sorta. I think I'll just hang around the apartment or go for a walk. Not sure yet."

"Alright."

"Alright? Were you expecting something more exuberant and exciting? Am I too boring for you?"

"What? No - I just thought...well I thought you'd be going out. With Elliott," Blaine said.

Kurt was very quiet and wordlessly sipped his coffee for a good five minutes before responding. "Not tonight. We're...we aren't really talking anymore, not since - never mind. It just wasn't working out, the whole dating another member of the band thing. I guess you were right."

The water turned off with a squeak of the pipes, and Blaine emerged from the bathroom, hair tousled and dripping and towel wrapped around his waist.

"Oh, Kurt...I'm so sorry."

Kurt averted his gaze.

The coffee tasted more bitter than usual, and Kurt was finding it hard to stomach. A simple pleasure turned sour.

"Don't be. It happens, but I'll survive. I've survived much worse, and I'll keep on trekking on, heartbreak or not. I'll get over it."

"But you really liked him," Blaine said, now partially dressed in briefs and dark wash denim. He pulled his polo shirt over his head and rolled it down and around his torso to rest by his hips, smoothing it out and adjusting the collar.

"I did...but it's not like I thought he was my soul mate or anything. It was nice, having a little fling, but all things must pass - you better get your ass moving so you're not late!"

"Oh shit. What time is it-? I gotta go! I'll see you later and we can pick this back up if you want," Blaine offered, grabbing his shoes and shoving his feet into them.

"Let's move on to more positive things, yeah? But hurry hurry, Blaine!"

He grabbed his keys off the coat rack mounted by the door. "Bye!"

Kurt waved. "See ya later!"

In his haste, Blaine closed the door with slightly more force than was necessary, and Kurt listened to it knock back against the frame. He stood, still supported by the kitchen counter, blinked hard, and then finally stirred. Kurt stared grimly down into the remaining coffee in his cup, reached over the sink, and then dumped it down the drain.

It was difficult keeping anything down, and if coffee was a challenge, then Kurt wouldn’t even entertain breakfast to fill his empty yet disagreeable stomach. He glanced around the empty, apartment, the sun streaming in, illuminating the walls and floor, before returning to his bedroom where it was darker, more isolated. Though no one was home, he locked the door, which served as a barrier, a means of virtual protection, threw himself onto his bed, and then sobbed into his pillow, cried until it didn’t hurt anymore, instead, his entire body was numb and his mind was too tired. Kurt didn’t want to sleep the day away, to waste his daylight hours feeling sorry for himself. He wouldn’t let Blaine see how torn up he was about the breakup, because he didn’t want to worry him, but he could only imagine what sick satisfaction Blaine might get for being right about him dating Elliott and it not working out.

Kurt had to remain strong, so when he’d had his cry, he climbed back out of bed and grabbed one of the notebooks he had stashed under his bed and a pen, set on channeling his heartbreak into lyrics for a new song. Anything to feel productive. And isn’t that what most musicians do?

He pressed the tip to the paper again and again, but he struggled to find words to describe how he was feeling. He knew: dreadful, broken, lonely, defeated. But all of it sounded too ugly in his head, when all he wanted to do was spill poignant poetry onto the page. How did other people do it so easily? It was frustrating. How did Blaine do it so easily, Kurt wondered. Where does it come from? Even Rachel Berry had written a song back in high school, and here he was, frustrated with himself for being rendered completely useless by a man. No Adele or Taylor would Kurt Hummel be, and he found himself in tears again, the silent kind that sneak up on you, burn you, and roll down your face to shame you, the likes of which he’d become well-acquainted with during high school. That’s when he had a best friend who would selflessly provide him a shoulder, a listening ear, and seemed to always have tissues on hand.

Kurt’s best friend had turned into something unrecognizable.

It felt like hours had passed. Kurt looked at the clock. Blaine would be home any minute now. He wiped at his cheek with the back of his wrist, closing and tossing the notebook aside. And he toddled to the bathroom to clean himself up, wash away the tearstains of grief and prepare to put on his mask for the day.

-s-

Following the breakup, band rehearsals were tense and uncomfortable, sometimes even unbearable, but it was easy enough for Kurt to lose himself in the music once they got started, and it seemed like Elliott and Blaine were able to look past their differences to continue to play.

But Kurt didn’t see the smirks Blaine would shoot Elliott behind his back, and the daggers Elliott would glare in response.

Dani who was mostly out of the loop watched the drama unfold each day with a bemused curiosity. It was funny how as loud as the drums were, the drummer often went unnoticed, pushed to the back of everyone’s thoughts when there was clearly something more pressing, more interesting in the air. She was there to keep time; without her, they might all fall apart, go spiraling into chaotic sound and total cataclysmic discord.

Though, some days, it seemed like even she wouldn’t be able to keep this ship from heading straight for an iceberg, splitting, and sinking to dark, watery depths.

The guitar died abruptly with a cacophonous, scratchy, static noise, like a train running off its track but making no impact, an unsettling sound, and Elliott unplugged and walked off the stage while the others stared on in slight horror and confusion.

“This isn’t working. I thought I could do it, I thought I could continue on with the band, act like nothing ever happened and not allow personal stuff to get in the way for the sake of the music, but I can’t do this anymore,” Elliott said as he packed up his guitar. “It’s clear that Blaine doesn’t want me here, especially after how I hurt you, and I can’t handle seeing you looking so sad. I don’t think we can work together anymore.”

Blaine scoffed and rolled his eyes, while Dani continued to stare, mouth agape.

“Elliott,” Kurt said, but forming words proved impossible when he was fighting so hard to keep the tears at bay that were stinging in his eyes. “Don’t go.”

“It’s too late, Kurt. I’m sorry.”

Without another word, Elliott grasped the handle of his guitar case to lift it, turned his back on them, walked out, and was gone.

“Whoa,” Dani breathed, barely audible.

“Kurt -”

“ _What?_ ” Kurt snapped, but he took a deep breath to calm himself. “What is it, Blaine?”

“Do you want to continue practice? Because we can call it a day and go home if you need time to yourself. I don’t want you to do something you don’t feel up to.”

“No, of course not. I mean, of course I want to keep practicing. Going home would be like quitting, and I can’t let a little thing like this stop us from going on. It’s just, uh, a minor blip, and the show must go on, right? We have a gig coming up and an audience that’s expecting us to perform, so let’s remain professional.” Kurt turned to Dani. “You ready to go over the last one again?”

“Ay, Kurt,” Dani called out, saluting him before tapping her drum sticks together and getting into the rhythm once again.

With one less member, Infernal Seventh picked up the pieces the best they could and played on.

-s-

A few concerned fans who had been to some of their previous shows had inquired about Elliott’s whereabouts, and Kurt more than ever felt his absence, not just in the way it altered their sound, but everything just felt hollow and off balance when they played.

Blaine saved Kurt the trouble and hurt of having to recount the incident again and again and would offer a simple statement to those who asked:

“He had other obligations.”

Before they knew it, it was August, and the threesome was sweating through rehearsals. Blaine had picked up on the guitar after Elliott’s departure, and they were sounding more and more cohesive. Their overall sound was different, but they made it work, and Kurt was feeling more confident about each show they played because Blaine made sure they were well-supplied and was cranking out tunes to have new material every time they made a public appearance.

The road ahead was paved, ready for them to roll forward toward broader horizons, and Blaine had even secured them time in a small studio where they were set to record a six-song EP, which they could sell at upcoming shows.

The heat was on, and they were feeling not only that which came with the season. There was a certain fire under Kurt’s feet and optimistic determination burning in his eyes, but when Kurt was invited out to coffee with Dani one afternoon, he wasn’t prepared for the bomb she dropped on him.

“I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back home, to New Mexico. It’s been a long time coming, and it’s been on my mind a lot lately. I was talking to my mom the other day, and I realized how much she needs me. I miss my fam.”

“But what about the band?” Kurt asked. “What about your job at the diner? And your roommates?”

“They’ll do okay without me. We stayed up all last night discussing it, and they support me one hundred percent. New York isn’t my final destination, Kurt. I love it here, but I didn’t come for school, just for the music. I came, I saw, and I conquered, and I wanted you to know how rad it’s been to have the opportunity to play with you guys and to be a member of Infernal Seventh. I truly appreciate it.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Kurt said almost to himself. “You’re leaving.”

“Yeah,” Dani said.

“I understand. But I’m going to miss you.”

“Right back at ya, Hummel,” Dani said with one final salute. He was going to miss that too.

He hugged her before they parted to go their separate ways, held her to him so tightly, afraid to let go and watch her drift away, fade out and disappear from his life. There would be another hole to patch up and attempt to fill, a silence Kurt didn’t think he was ready to face again. Too many people were leaving him, changing their minds, and changing for good, and Kurt wondered if he really could keep going this time.

Regardless, he knew he had to break the news to Blaine that night. On the walk home, Kurt took a detour through the park to organize his thoughts, biding his time, bracing and preparing himself to face Blaine. He felt like a doctor who was about to deliver the harrowing truth about the death of a loved one, because in all his current uncertainty, Kurt knew that it was the end of an era and things would never be the same from here on out.


	5. Chapter 5

When Kurt told Blaine that Dani was out, had left the band for good, and was leaving the city and state, Blaine actually felt inexplicably happy. It was strange, and Blaine harbored some guilt for feeling like he did, but seeing how defeated Kurt looked gave Blaine new purpose, assuming the responsibility of making sure the band didn’t die then and there and, with it, Kurt’s dream.

“So we’ve taken another hit,” Blaine said. “So what? We’ve been here before. It’s back down to just the two of us, but if you recall, we were the ones who built this band from the bottom up. And we can do it again. You’ve made me believe that anything’s possible, Kurt.”

“How can you be so hopeful? We had a fanbase that was interested in a band and the music we played as a group. Now there’s no band. Not even anything that remotely resembles a band. You and I? We’re a duo at best. But, honestly, what can we do with just two members?”

“Plenty, Kurt. Anything we want to do. We are a duo, and we always have been. It’ll take a bit of creativity, but we can do it. There are plenty of musicians who work alone, as well as two-piece bands, so we already know it’s possible,” Blaine assured him.

“You know what? You’re right. We don’t needs others. We’ll be fine, since you can play just about any instrument, sing backup, whatever. But, are you sure you want to take on that extra responsibility? I feel bad asking that of you.”

“Of course I’m sure. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Alright,” Kurt said, and it eased his mind to know that Blaine was still very much committed.

“We’ll be good with guitar and vocals. And in order to create a fuller sound, we can buy a drum machine. I learned all about them and how to use them in a class I took.”

“Alright,” Kurt said, beginning to nod. “Alright, let’s do this.”

“I have a request though. Our band’s name hasn’t made sense since Elliott left, and now it definitely doesn’t with just the two of us,” Blaine said. “Could we talk about changing it?”

“Of course. Did you already have something in mind? It sounds like it’s something you’ve thought about.”

“I have. We could call ourselves Desperate Measures,” Blaine suggested. “Think about it. When you had the idea to start this band, you were feeling desperate to prove something to yourself, to prove to others that you were capable of being more than Kurt Hummel, show choir champion and musical theatre performance major from Lima, Ohio.”

“Yeah, and of course I appreciate a good music pun,” Kurt said, tilting his head to the side, his hand at his chin as he considered it.

“It follows in the same vein as our last name, but this time I feel it’s more personal. Because, well, it is.”

“Desperate Measures...” Kurt said, contemplating how he liked the ring of it and how it rolled off his tongue. “Desperate Measures,” he repeated. “It’s good. I like it.”

Blaine’s face lit up with a thousand-watt grin.

After the briefest of disruptions, they were back in the saddle, and Blaine was once again standing beside Kurt, starting over again on equal ground.

-s-

Irony was something that Kurt could appreciate. It was right up there with serendipitous encounters, designer clearance sales, and finding the missing sock stuck to the inside of a pair of trousers. Now that their band had fallen apart, they’d never had so many offers to play gigs and at such a variety of locations. They’d been receiving calls or emails with requests from local bars, clubs, and coffee shops, and it seemed like everyone knew their names, referring to them always as ‘Kurt and Blaine’ and never the other way around.

Kurt cringed when someone referred to them as ‘Klaine’, politely correcting the individual shortly after.

Stranger yet was Blaine’s ability to crank out more and more original songs in record time and how their audience grew exponentially in number but also more diverse, their music drawing in people of all ages - older individuals as well as college-aged, even some teenagers - from all walks of life. It was a mystery as to why their success came so suddenly now and not before when they were a bigger, more traditional band, but neither wanted to question it, and they were set on working even harder to give their all every chance they could.

One toe-dip in the vast ocean of social media would have brought up the answers to their fame, but they were answers neither Kurt nor Blaine were ready for.

-s-

Blaine played the concluding chord on his keyboard, softly singing the last note out. He scribbled something down and then dropped his pen before rushing out into the main room, his eyes frantically searching for Kurt. He spotted him over by the kitchen sink, and Kurt dropped the dish in his hand and turned quickly, eyebrows raised, when Blaine suddenly popped out of his bedroom, slid across the floor with socked feet, and nearly shouted.

“Kurt, I want you to listen to this! I think this is it, this is the one,” Blaine said, mouth stretched in a wide grin.

Kurt chuckled. “You’ve said that about every song you’ve written recently.”

“No, I know, but each time I was just getting closer, and now I can feel it. This is the real deal, Kurt.”

Blaine had this crazy look in his eyes, and Kurt couldn’t not believe that maybe this really was something special.

“Okay, Blaine. Lay it on me.”

“Just a sec. I need to grab my guitar.”

Blaine rushed to his bedroom and returned with his acoustic strapped to him.

“Acoustic?” Kurt questioned. “I thought I heard you playing your keyboard.”

“I was, just for composing. The acoustic is only for now. I don’t want to plug the amp in and get our neighbors mad at us,” Blaine explained.

“Good point. I’m all ears when you’re ready,” Kurt said, moving to have a seat on the couch.

Blaine began to fingerpick the strings of his guitar, a steady, upbeat rhythm with some little surprises and grace notes thrown in, plucking and strumming and occasionally patting the body of the guitar to keep the beat, and Kurt couldn’t help but tap his foot. Blaine sang out the lyrics of this really gorgeous sort of rock ballad, and in Kurt’s head, he could imagine it on the electric, ringing out loud, booming through the speakers, he could hear the other instruments, envisioned himself belting out the chorus, the spotlight burning in his eyes, the crowd screaming for Kurt and Blaine...

Blaine played the final chord, singing out the last line just as before.

Kurt’s eyes fluttered open, and he hadn’t realized he’d closed them. Blaine was staring intently at him, waiting with bated breath.

“So, what do you think?”

“It’s perfect! And I’m not just saying that. It’s - god, Blaine, it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay, now you’re just flattering me,” Blaine said.

“I’m being honest. It’s the perfect mixture of pop and rock and even has a bit of a musical theatre element to it, which is really quite perfect for my voice. I really think you’re right. I believe this is the song that’s going to make us, Blaine,” Kurt said, meeting Blaine’s eyes with a confident smile.

Blaine set the guitar aside, propping it up against the wall. “I guess we’ll see what happens when we start playing it. It’s debut will be at our next show, the one in Brooklyn.”

“Perfect. I’ve heard that all kinds of people show up at that nightclub, and, who knows? We could get really lucky. Not that it’s luck that you’ve written something so - perfect. There isn’t another word for it. Perhaps some choice synonyms, like, flawless.”

Blaine’s eyes were downcast, his eyelashes fluttering bashfully. “Let’s just hope that our fans feel that way too.”

-s-

When the applause died down, Kurt stepped to the side of the stage, wiping his brow and then stretching his arms high up above his head before allowing them to drop back down and swing limply at his sides, feeling relaxed and limber. He felt energized yet serene after singing the new song of Blaine’s; there was something so powerful about it, inspiring even. He rose up onto the balls of his feet as he watched Blaine start to unplug and clean up their equipment and then fell back onto his heels, feet flat on the floor once more.

“You don’t need to do that, you know,” Kurt said. “We have a team especially for that, and they get _paid_ to do it.”

“I know, it’s just that I feel bad making them do all the work, and I like having everything organized the way I like it.”

“Well, take a break and come with me. There are a few people who’re waiting around for us so they can take pictures and have us sign things. And I kinda want to check out the merch table too to see how the shirts I designed are selling.”

“You go on ahead. I promise I’ll only be a few minutes,” Blaine said.

“But only a few minutes,” Kurt said, taking a few steps back. “Or I’ll come looking for you to yell at you,” he said, a sweet smile on his face to let Blaine know it was all good-natured. Kurt spun around and headed toward the entrance where the merchandise table was set up.

Blaine was squatting down, winding a wire around his arm to coil it for transport when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he twisted around, surprised to see a sharply dressed woman. He rose to his full height, the coiled cord resting on his shoulder and hanging down by his elbow. Realizing it, Blaine let it slide down his arm, and he set it on the top of the closest amplifier, brushing his hands against his thighs and giving the woman his undivided attention.  

“Can I help you?” he said after she stood there for a good length of time just staring at him. They were getting used to fans now, learning that some were too nervous to initiate an interaction, so Blaine often took it upon himself to ask the first question. “Would you like me to sign anything? Perhaps, you’d like a selfie?”

“No need. I’m not here for that,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

Blaine narrowed his eyes at her. “Then what are you here for?”

“Let me get right to it. I know something good when I hear it, and you two? You two can sell,” she said. “Together, you’re quite the package.”

“No one has ever said that to us before. Thank you?” Blaine said, not sure how to respond to such a compliment.

“That’s because I’m no ordinary fan.” The woman reached into her handbag, extracting a business card, and held it out with one quick, sharp movement. “Nicola Ramirez.”

Blaine took the card, turning it over in his hands.

“I would like to extend an offer to represent Desperate Measures. I’ve heard every last song of yours, and I see potential. I have connections with several independent record labels in the area, and I’d like to get you set up for a contract.”

“This is...I don’t know what to say,” Blaine spoke slowly, still fixated on the lettering on the card, not fully processing what was happening.

“You can say yes, but you don’t have to make a decision just yet. Take your time, mull it over with Kurt, and then make sure you call me.”

“Okay, yeah. We’ll let you know. Definitely. Thank you,” Blaine said.

She held her hand out this time, and he took it. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Blaine Anderson.”

He shook her hand. “Likewise.”

Still in a daze, Blaine waved awkwardly as Nicola disappeared back into the throng of clubgoers.

As fast as his legs could carry him, Blaine maneuvered himself through the crowd of patrons, the back of Kurt’s head in his line of vision, dodging people to avoid bowling them over, until he popped up next to Kurt. He grabbed his arm and yanked, pulling him aside and away from two teenage boys he’d been in a conversation with.

“Ow. What are you doing, Blaine? Couldn’t you see I was talking to fans?” Kurt rubbed at his arm where Blaine had grabbed him rather roughly. “Is something wrong? You look a little pale.”

“I’m still in shock. You won’t believe what just happened.” He pulled the business card out of his pocket and held it up for Kurt to see. “I just talked to an agent. She wants to help us get signed to an indie label.”

“Oh my god, that’s incredible! Did you give her our EP?”

“I didn’t need to. Apparently she’s already heard every song we’ve ever played.”

“Weird. Has she been at all of our shows hiding out in the shadows or something like some ninja?”

“No, Kurt,” Blaine began to laugh. “I don’t think so. My guess is YouTube.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Well? What did you say?”

“That we’d think about it. God, I’m so stupid, I should have just said yes right then and there.”

“Let’s not be too hasty, Blaine. You did the right thing. Never let them know you may be desperate, act like you’re mildly interested, that way they think they need you more than you need them.”

“You’re a very smart man, Kurt Hummel.”

“You’ve known that for years.”

“I have.”

Blaine’s gaze traveled from Kurt’s blue, shining eyes to the smile on his lips, pink and soft, framed by those dimples. Blaine quickly looked away, his heart racing and blood pumping hot through his veins, flowing out to his limbs.

“We’ll call her tomorrow,” Kurt said, snapping Blaine back into the moment.

-s-

Kurt and Blaine had never been so busy in their lives. They’d also never had so much money coming in from their music. It got to the point where they were playing shows every week, sometimes twice a week, and the venues and crowds only got bigger, and the locations more reputable. Gone were the days of empty cafes and coffeehouse stages.

Blaine was working in overdrive to compose and produce, and Kurt had even managed to write a few lyrics that Blaine worked into a song. But now that they had facilities and a studio to work out of, it sped up the writing process tremendously and gave them a smoother, cleaner sound on tracks. Still, Blaine insisted on doing most of the work, though they had been offered assistance, not wanting to compromise who they were as musicians at any cost.

They weren’t known nationally, not even close to being asked to perform on VH1 or at any major network televised event, but in the New York City area, when anyone uttered Desperate Measures in company, it would spark often lengthy conversations about Kurt and Blaine filled with awe, rumors and speculation, and where they were playing next.

They were a local sensation, and their fame didn’t go unnoticed by either man. Both were fully aware of their effect on women and men alike, and they would get recognized when they leisurely went out to bars, restaurants, and nightclubs, wanting to relax and shake their usual obligations. But now they were finding that their performance didn’t end on the stage, and they accepted and embraced it with enthusiasm, fully immersing themselves in the lifestyle.

But it was like walking a tightrope: at any moment one of them could lose their balance, make a mistake, and the world would look at them, judge them, and it would all be over.

That didn’t stop Kurt Hummel from hitting up a fairly exclusive gay club on a Thursday night, alone, fully aware and with the intention of getting noticed. He liked how it felt, the attention. It made him feel good, important even, and he danced and drank drink after free drink, let himself get caught up in the music, flash of strobes, thumping of the deafening bass, and sea of sweaty bodies, pressing himself up against multiple partners. He enjoyed the attention, allowing people to sing his praises, to touch him, admire and gawk at him, but it never went further than that. An invitation for anything more sent Kurt walking to find something else, a new person who would die to have him and to be able to say they did. He’d walk away, not only because his manager and publicist would castrate him, but because Kurt wasn’t a fool enough to chase after an easy, meaningless lay.

And when his mind was numb from drink, he felt free, uninhibited by his past, his current life and responsibilities, and the thoughts and fears and doubts that often crossed his mind and lodged themselves with as much inconvenience as a splinter in his finger. With enough alcohol, he could dig it out and no longer feel it, and even forget it had been there in the first place.

Several blocks away in another section of the city, Blaine was blowing out the smoke of a joint he’d just just been offered by a blurry, kind-faced, pierced and tattooed gentleman, his eyes watering as he fought to suppress a cough. Blaine took a swig of his beer to wash down the burning dryness in his mouth and throat. The man was so nice to share, Blaine thought. So nice. He could live here, wherever here was. He laughed, and it spooked him to hear his own voice, bringing on another bout of laughter. He looked at the kind man again as he talked about god only knew what. That didn’t matter to Blaine. They could be best friends, he thought. Best friends.


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt stumbled in through the door, nearly tripping as he untied, unbuckled, and tugged off his boots. Hopping unsteadily to the side, he regained his balance, making his way through the apartment, noticing the lights already off and Blaine’s bedroom door closed.  

Blaine’s door creaked open, and he rolled over in his bed, staring into the darkness, blinking hard to make out the slightly hunched form framed in his doorway.

“Hey, Blaine...? Are you still up?”

The voice, he knew the voice.

Blaine sat up, the blanket sliding down to reveal his bare chest; in a moment of paranoia, he’d stripped down as soon as he’d entered the apartment, stuffing his clothes into his laundry basket, hoping to hide the evidence of his night.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just missed you. I’ve missed talking to you. You know, like we used to.”

“I’ve missed talking to you too. Do you wanna come in and talk?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Kurt made his way to the end of the bed, hesitantly taking a seat, and then he threw himself back onto the bed, sinking into the mattress and closing his eyes, his head spinning slightly. Kurt opened them again and rolled over to take in Blaine. He smiled dopily.

Blaine laughed. “You look comfortable.”

“Oh god, I’m so comfortable, so warm, and drunk, and your bed is so comfortable, and soft.” He rolled back onto his back and ran his hands up and down the covers like he was making a snow angel in the sheets. “God, do you remember the first week we moved to New York?”

“How could I forget it?”

“We didn’t have beds, and we had to sleep on the floor. It took so long for our stuff to ship from home, but when it finally arrived like a week later, man, was I grateful.”

“It wasn’t so bad. It was kinda like camping,” Blaine said.

“It was _horrible_ , Blaine. Don’t even try to lie. I woke up every day with the stiffest neck and back, and I wanted to cry. In fact, I did, a few times in the shower. You never knew.”

“Okay, alright, you’re right. It was hell, absolutely brutal.  But look, look, Kurt. We have these super duper comfy beds now, and we’re warm, and drunk.”

Kurt sighed softly.

“Oh!”

Blaine jumped at the sudden exclamation. “What? You trying to give me a heart attack?”

“No, I just remembered one of our first nights here, you tried to be all sweet and make dinner -”

“Surprise you with a fancy dinner, some gourmet shit,” Blaine corrected.

“Ah, yes, the overly ambitious Blaine who mistook himself for a chef. It was a disaster. I can’t believe you didn’t burn the entire kitchen down,” Kurt said, chuckling.

“It was terrible,” Blaine laughed, “so disgusting. But we still ate it.”

“We still ate it.” Kurt hummed. “And I’m glad you willingly took those cooking lessons from me, because they’ve definitely paid off.”

“I can make pasta now,” Blaine jested.

“Oh stop. You can make more than pasta.”

“But you still barely let me near the stove and oven. Like I’m a toddler or something. ‘No, Blainey! Don’t touch, it’s hot!’” he said in a high-pitched chiding mock mother’s voice, waggling his finger. “Speaking of heat, our first winter here was pretty eventful too. The heater broke and the super was MIA and it was fucking _freezing_ ,” Blaine slurred.

“Jeez, yeah. We were bundled up like Eskimos, and even that wasn’t enough. We had to huddle together for warmth.”

Blaine grew quiet, fondly remembering one of the only times he’d spent extended periods having close contact with Kurt. It had been nice. He went into a bit of a daze, getting lost in this unexpected trip down memory lane, until it took him to a place he hadn’t revisited in a while.

“Remember when...” Blaine trailed off and was quiet again, as if he was really focusing, pulling up a memory to examine. “Remember when we first met?

“Like it was yesterday.”

“I had just transferred to McKinley our sophomore year, and I didn’t know anybody. No one talked to me until one day, in Spanish class, this girl was whispering to her friend, looking back at me every few seconds. It was Santana - and Brittany -, and I can’t believe it now when I think about it. She asked me to hang out, and I didn’t have any friends and was lonely, so I went. Boy was she disappointed when she found out that I was capital g-a-gay and she couldn’t make me another notch in her bedpost. When she dropped me, Puck felt bad for me, so I gained a pity friend.”

“Puck’s a nice guy, though it is funny how everything turned out with Santana and Brittany. Who would have ever known?”

“I know, Puck meant well. The best he could, anyway. So I had one friend at McKinley. Sorta. And then I was having the day from hell. It was pouring, and my car broke down on my way to school.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Kurt cut in, remembering. “I was driving along, and I wasn’t sure it was you at first. I was like, is that that new kid? Blaine? Sure enough, you were out there with the hood up as if it would do you any good. God, you were soaked to the bone. And of course I pulled over. I wasn’t going to leave you out there. What kind of jerk would?”

“Almost every resident of Lima, who drove past before you finally stopped.”

“It worked out though. Got it towed to my dad’s shop -”

“And I bummed rides off of you for a month. I felt so bad.”

“I didn’t. We wouldn’t have become friends if that never happened. So, I admit that I benefited from your humiliation.”

“We both did,” Blaine said.

That was perhaps one of Kurt’s more clever moments, using his dad being a mechanic to get closer to Blaine, the cute new transfer. It was a stroke of luck on Kurt’s part, to come across Blaine in distress like that. Blaine’s day from hell was Kurt’s day of salvation. The car had been repaired within the week, but Burt fixing it and keeping it in the shop was an excuse to talk to Blaine when Kurt was otherwise too shy.

The crush Kurt had on Blaine back then was like love at first sight, though he wasn’t sure he believed in that nonsense. Still, Kurt was immediately drawn to something about Blaine, not just the fact that he looked like an over-gelled, bowtie-wearing, Disney Prince. Perhaps it was what he saw in his eyes, something that resembled and reflected how Kurt had felt inside. Anger but not malice, determination, yearning, but also innocence, uncertainty, and kindness.   

But he fell in love with the over-zealous geller who dressed like he lived in a Brooks Brothers, his unattainable best friend, Blaine Anderson, who would never see him as anything beyond a friend. And for that reason, Kurt’s all-consuming crush was dangerous and eventually became too painful to entertain any longer. Like many unfavorable things in life, Kurt came to accept it, and he tried his best to move on. It wasn’t so bad, being in love with his best friend, because, above all else, they’d stuck together, and Blaine was still his.

“What would you do without me?” Kurt said, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t handle New York on my own, that’s for sure. I don’t know if I would’ve ever come here.”

“You got lost the first time you went out by yourself, and I remember you calling me, and you were panicking.”

“And you calmed me down and asked me the simplest question, you said, ‘Blaine, what street are you on?’ And that’s when I finally looked up and read the signs like you’d always told me to.”

“You realized you weren’t lost at all. Only a few blocks from home.”

"You live and you learn I guess."

"Yeah," Kurt sighed.

“When we made that pact back in the summer before junior year, did you expect it all, all of this, to actually work out?” Blaine said softly.

“I can honestly say that I did. I knew that, come hell or high water, I was going to do anything I had to to get out of Lima, and ever since I saw movies like _Miracle on 34th Street_ and _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ as a kid, my heart was set on New York. I know it’s silly, but I’ve always believed in the magic of the city.”

“It’s not silly. Your belief that things really do get better and in yourself got you here - it got us here. It all paid off, and now we’re living some crazy rock and roll fantasy we never imagined for ourselves, a life we never could have conceived of when we were just teens trying to run from the bullies.”

“Like Karofsky,” Kurt said. “If I didn’t know better now, I’d think that you were so much braver than I was back then, but you were just as scared when you told me to confront him.”

“I didn’t expect him to do what he did to you. But then we confronted him together, and that’s when I realized he wasn’t going to change. We would just need to get stronger.”

They both grew quiet, their minds wandering, lost and lingering in the past. Blaine breathed in deeply as the memory of the day Dave Karofsky forced himself on Kurt flashed in his head, conjuring emotions he’d felt the day Kurt was assaulted, his first kiss stolen from him, the day Blaine realized he had feelings for Kurt that were more than platonic. Blaine cared about Kurt on a level that was deeper than just friendship, and he wanted to do everything to keep Kurt safe, feeling happy and loved. Because he thought he did love him then, but it took Blaine another two years to fully realize the extent of his love, and by that time, Kurt had been dating and flirting with other guys, and Blaine wasn’t prepared to risk their friendship over feelings he didn’t think Kurt could reciprocate.

Kurt absentmindedly touched his fingertips to his lips, wondering what it would have been like if Blaine had been his first kiss, if he’d never had to experience the horror that he had. He had wanted him to be, with every fiber of his being.

“When we started out here, did you ever once think that we’d end up where we are?” Blaine said.

“No. Never.”

“You got everything you wanted, right? You’re living your dream?”

“Yeah.”

Kurt yawned, no longer able to fight the sleep away, his eyes falling closed. The spinning in his head had died down, and he felt himself slipping into a comfortable slumber.

Blaine watched as Kurt lost consciousness, staying awake a little longer until Kurt rolled over onto his side and began to softly snore.


	7. Chapter 7

“Have you seen this yet? Can you believe this shit?”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” Kurt said.

“Nope. These people are serious. Apparently you pick up randoms at clubs -”

“Not randoms, Blaine, fans. I sleep with fans. Get it right.”

“Like that’s any better?”

“Well, it says here that you were seen going into a back room with some bear with a face full of metal.”

“It’s all lies, idle gossip. I’m not sure how it’s even legal for these people to publish this shit. And even if they aren’t saying exactly what they mean, it’s all implied.”

“Oh, but look! This part is my favorite!” Kurt said. “We’re in a secret relationship, and our sex-capades are putting a strain on our love which could result in the band splitting.”

“Absolutely wild, and not even remotely true.”

“There’s an entire world of fiction out there, people writing our story who think they know us better than we know ourselves. I know they say that any publicity is good publicity, but this isn’t something I’d want getting back to my dad.”

“So we need to be smarter, that’s all,” Blaine proffered. “Make more calculated moves and find ways to not attract attention to ourselves. That way we’re not giving them more fodder for their trashy gossip articles.”

“We would benefit from lying low for a while, at least until the hype dies down.”

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s just one thing, Kurt. If things continue like they are, the hype may never die down.”

“We’ll just listen to our manager for once, who is trying to maintain a positive public image for us, and we should be fine.”

-s-

Thursday was Kurt’s favorite night to go out on the town, and this time he managed to drag Blaine along with him to a club he’d been interested in checking out but was wary of going alone. It wasn’t his usual scene, it was more of a dive than anything, and Kurt had heard some stories about it being a disreputable establishment. Still, he was intrigued, and he’d been frequenting the same three places and needed some change. He didn’t see why it would be a problem, as long as he behaved himself, and he always did.

Blaine seemed all too eager to tag along, so they’d headed out as soon as both were dressed accordingly. When they arrived, it was easy to slip in undetected, finding their way through the crowd to the bar.

They leaned up against it, looking out at everyone gathered inside the place, drinks in hand.

“So...” Blaine began, taking large gulps of his beer. “I didn’t know you were taking me to a kink club.”

“It’s _not_. It just draws in a very particular crowd,” Kurt said, turning his head as he took in a man walking past them.

“That’s one way to look at it.” Blaine’s attention was caught by two men off in the corner, and he watched, unblinking, for a moment.

“You recognize someone or something?” Kurt asked.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Blaine said. “But I saw you eying that blond with the black angel wings tattooed on his back. A fan, perhaps?” he joked.

“You know it. You know me, always chasing tail. Or, I guess, wings?”

They both began to laugh, falling silent again when they sipped their drinks.

“You, uh, you won’t mind if I wander off, right?” Blaine said.

“No, of course not. It’s not like you’re my date or anything. Go on, have your fun,” Kurt said.

“Ok.” Blaine chugged the remainder of his beer, setting the empty bottle on the bar. “I’ll catch up with you later.” And he was off, disappearing into the crowd of dancers.

Kurt stood against the bar, immobilized, feeling a bit betrayed by Blaine. He had given him the okay, but he didn’t expect him to leave his side so easily and so willingly. He suspected Blaine had been dishonest with him in the past, and he saw the way Blaine had been leering at the other patrons, so he began to wonder if maybe those rumors about his promiscuity weren’t all false. He wasn’t aware of everything Blaine got up to when he went out, and Kurt knew how much he himself enjoyed the attention, but did Blaine have as much self-control as Kurt? For as long as he’d known him, Blaine had been the one of the two who often acted before completely thinking something through, so Kurt was feeling uneasy now that Blaine was out of his sight.

He tried to shake it. Perhaps he was being unfair.

Drink completely drained, Kurt ordered another, and then took to the floor, heading straight for a man who’d been looking his way for the past few minutes.

Every man he danced with couldn’t take his mind off of Blaine. Each drink he consumed couldn’t keep him from wondering about Blaine’s whereabouts and what he was up to. Eventually, Kurt couldn’t take it anymore, and he hurried off to go searching for Blaine.

He’d been around the entire club at least five times, but still there was no sign of Blaine. Had he left without telling Kurt? That was so unlike Blaine, and he thought that surely he had just missed him each time. It was dark and packed, so it was possible. Where else could he possibly be?

Kurt saw a small stream of people exit out a back door, and he made his way over to see where it led, discovering that there was a back alley where people must be going to smoke. He pushed through the door and glanced around, his eyes falling on Blaine who was leaning up against the brick wall, chatting with a guy with a joint in his hand. His companion passed him something in a small bag, which Blaine pocketed.

“Blaine?” Kurt called out, slowly, cautiously approaching him.

Blaine turned, a goofy grin taking over his features, eyes growing wide. His eyes looked glassy and distant. Something wasn’t right with him, and Kurt began to panic before it hit him, and his panic transformed into anger.

“Hey, Kurt! It’s great to see you! I’m so happy you joined us! This is - this is -” Blaine paused, racking his brain. “Jude. Like the Beatles. Weird, right? He’s been to a few of our shows. He’s a fan, a big fan.”

“Want a hit?” the man said, holding out the joint.

“No, thank you,” Kurt said, his gaze still fixed on Blaine, disgust evident in every feature and blood beginning to boil. Kurt grabbed Blaine’s arm above the elbow and yanked him away from the other man. “What are you doing, Blaine?”

“I’m having fun. Aren’t you? Isn’t that why we came here?”

“This is not what I consider fun, Blaine. What was it I saw Jude give you? He could be trying to date rape you, and you’re all so casual and stupid about it. Christ, I thought you were smarter than that!”

“Huh? He didn’t give me anything. Oh,” Blaine said, as if suddenly remembering. “You’re overreacting, Kurt.” He pulled the dime bag out, a single tablet inside, and shook it in front of Kurt’s face. “It’s just E -”

“Just E, Blaine? _Just_ E?!” Kurt couldn’t stop himself from going off, and he almost snatched the drug from Blaine and fought the urge to smack him upside the head. Blaine had gone too far. “You’re already high. You reek of pot, and now you’re just going to pop some pill a stranger gave you? Whatever happened to lying low, huh? Whatever happened to you having common sense? Who even are you?”

“Fuck off, Hummel.”

Kurt’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Words failed him as he searched Blaine’s eyes. “Fuck off? How dare you. Fuck _you_ , Blaine!” He jabbed Blaine in the chest with his finger. “You can find your own way home. I’m heading back inside, and don’t come looking for me!”

Kurt was seething as he turned on his heel, pulling the door open again and allowing it to slam shut.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like suddenly the air inside was too thick and humid and he was choking on it. What was going on? Kurt wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol in his veins or something else that was making him dizzy and disoriented. What had happened to Blaine? Kurt knew that the man out there wasn’t his best friend. Why would he do something like this? Was there something Kurt was missing?

“I need another drink,” Kurt mumbled to himself, making a beeline for the bar. This time, he didn’t want the spinning to end. He wanted everything to go away, to smudge the memory into something unrecognizable and forget this night, and he would pour as much alcohol into his body he needed to do the trick.

Kurt danced. He just kept dancing, not knowing up from down, left from right, man from woman. Completely carefree. Completely careless. Spinning, twirling, the world revolving around him. The stage. The stage was Kurt’s. He belonged on the stage. Kurt Hummel would own the stage.

And then he woke up on the kitchen floor of their apartment the next morning, covered in his own vomit, the sun burning in his eyes.

His phone was going off for hours before he finally picked himself up and answered it.


	8. Chapter 8

“Do you realize how badly this reflects on both of you?” Their manager slapped the pictures in her hand down on the table. “We’ve been in a battle to address the rumors circulating about the two of you, but now it looks like we’re some of the worst kinds of liars, trying to cover up a larger problem. The band’s reputation is at stake, and if you screw up like this again, the label might drop you.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said, hanging his head.

“You can apologize all you want, but that doesn’t change how you behaved. You’re a grown man, and we can’t have you getting blackout drunk to the point where you can’t even remember that you practically gave an entire club, a sleazy one I might add, a free strip show.”

“They seem to be enjoying it,” Kurt said with a snicker as he looked at the pictures.

“I’m glad you can find humor in this situation, because I don’t find you amusing. The only silver lining is that you’re alive and in one piece.”

“So, what now?”

“What now? We need to do quite a bit of damage control. You’re on probation until further notice.”

“What? How does that work?”

“You’re not to make any public appearances outside of shows. No bars, no clubs, don’t even go out to eat.”

“Come on,” Kurt groaned.

“I wouldn’t fight me on this, Kurt.”

“What about Blaine?”

“What about Blaine? He’s not the one who got himself into trouble.”

“Yeah, he’s just better at not getting caught,” Kurt sneered.

“That may be the case, but this meeting is about you. To be honest, I never would have expected this from you, and I have no idea what could have triggered you to lose control like that and act out. Is fame too much for you to handle? Do you think you need to go out and live the reckless rock star lifestyle?”

“No, that’s not it at all.”

“Well you better figure it out. Sort out your shit. Stay inside. Behave, Kurt. Hopefully all of this will blow over.”

“Can I leave now?”

“Yes. Please do.”

-s-

Blaine spent the rest of the week avoiding Kurt, even managing to not acknowledge his existence while in their small shared apartment. He went out as often as possible during the day and came back in the evening mostly to sleep and not much more. Blaine was pissed, still holding a grudge, wondering if Kurt was even considering apologizing. Not only did he act like a self-righteous dick before getting shitfaced and going completely crazy, but he almost cost them their contract and entire livelihood in New York.

What would they do then? Go back to working at the diner? Hope to god they could find jobs that could pay the rent? If it all fell apart now - no, Blaine didn’t want to think about it. He was a long way away from Lima now, and he had no intention of ever going back.

But Kurt refused his advice and help in the recent past. There was nothing Blaine could really do in terms of looking after him anymore. Whenever he looked at Kurt now, all he felt was an overwhelming sadness, because he saw someone who was lost, and all he wanted to do was scoop him up in his arms, reassure him that everything was going to be okay, to remind him that his best friend was still there, regardless of all that had happened between them.

He felt partially responsible for what Kurt had done, guilty even, but he wasn’t going to admit it. He wasn’t there yet. Maybe soon. They may not being seeing eye to eye right now, but Blaine wouldn’t let Kurt walk out of his life, and he couldn’t imagine what would happen if he lost him.

Still, he was bitter, and nothing was going to stop him from going out alone without Kurt, who’d felt the need to babysit him, even if he was right about one thing. Although purely recreational, Blaine knew the drug use wasn’t like him and that he was doing more harm than anything. After the confrontation with Kurt, he promised himself that he wouldn’t touch the stuff again.

He found himself in another club, someplace quieter this time, a place that lacked the rowdy crowds and instead tended to draw in a more classy assortment of individuals.

And it was in that club, while Blaine was minding his own business, lounging on a plush chair and sipping his drink, that he was approached by a man, and looked up into a familiar face, a face he’d only ever seen on his television and in the most recent issue of _Out_ magazine, and he nearly choked on the drink in his mouth.

“Blaine Anderson. Well, well, well...”

“You know who I am? But -”

“Of course I do, killer. Desperate Measures has been on my radar ever since the rumors that both members were not only charming and gorgeous, but also very gay. Not to mention, you’re all over New York right now, the hot topic. Up and _coming_ ,” he said, raising his eyebrows. He took a seat across from Blaine, leaning back but not breaking eye contact.

“Sebastian Smythe. I can’t believe it,” Blaine said, shifting in his seat.

“Surely you were aware that celebrities actually live in the city?”

“Of course,” Blaine said. “I’m just still a little shocked.”

“I tend to have that effect on people.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Blaine said, extending a hand.

“You’re adorable,” Sebastian said. “Let’s skip that. There’s no need for formalities. We already know who each other is, right?”

“Um, I guess. Yeah.” He withdrew his hand, allowing it to drop back down onto the arm of the chair.

“What brings you here alone?” Sebastian asked. “Surely your boyfriend is missing you right now.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Blaine said.

“Oh? But I thought you and Kurt had a thing,” Sebastian said.

“No, there’s no ‘thing’ between us. We’re friends, bandmates, but nothing else.”

“That’s good to know. I’m glad I’m not wasting my time coming over here.”

“I could use some company,” Blaine said.

“And I could use someone. To grace with my company, that is.”

“Aren’t you charming,” Blaine said with all due sarcasm.

“I got it from my mother,” he jested. “As well as my looks. You should send her a thank you card. Perhaps some roses.”

“Confident or just arrogant? I can’t decide,” Blaine said, but Sebastian just laughed and continued to eye Blaine with a startling intensity, his eyes growing darker.

“Can I tell you a secret? Kurt might be the lead vocalist, but, between you and me, you’re the real deal. Your voice makes panties drop of anyone within a five-mile radius. If I’m not mistaken, you write the music and play all the instruments too. Not to mention, your whole bashful, small-town boy thing? Super hot.”

Blaine felt himself growing hot under Sebastian’s gaze.

“Tell me,” Blaine began, leaning forward in his seat and setting his drink down on the short, round table between them. “What exactly are your intentions?”

-s-

He knew it was a bad idea from the get go. He knew he should have listened, followed the rules and never left the apartment, but Kurt couldn’t stand the isolation anymore, and he wanted to make amends with Blaine. So he’d found out where Blaine was heading, and he followed him there without his knowledge, only to walk in on something he wished he’d never witnessed, gaining knowledge he didn’t want.

Kurt’s heart stopped when he laid eyes on Blaine, who was getting awfully cozy with none other than famous television actor, Sebastian Smythe, recently named one of the hottest gay male celebrities under twenty-five, and known in the industry for being quite the casanova; he had a long list of conquests, something he seemed especially proud of and had no problem flaunting. Men never seemed to care, falling victim to his charm, and fell to his feet, or onto their knees more like.

Feeling sick, Kurt turned around and rushed right back out of the club, the bouncers staring on in confusion at his brief stay and quick departure.

-s-

“How was last night?” Kurt asked.

Blaine shrugged, not bothering to give him an answer.

“Alright, I can’t do this anymore, Blaine, this petty act of not talking to each other. We live together. We play in a band together. You’re my best friend, and I know we had a falling out of sorts, but we both need to get over it.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Blaine said.

“How long is it going to be then? A month? A year?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Blaine said. He closed his eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh, opening them again to finally look Kurt in the eye. “We both got ourselves into this mess, and I don’t think it’s as simple as ‘getting over it’ like none of it even matters. We need to talk. I think we’re overdue for that.”

“So you’ll talk to me again? No more snubbing me for a careless - although pretty major - mistake?”

“Yeah, no more snubbing. Listen, Kurt. It’s just as much my fault as it was yours, but I want to start by saying that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I was stupid and mean, and you were right about the way I was acting. I haven’t touched the stuff since.”

“That’s really good to know. And I’m - I’m sorry for being a total ass and nearly costing us our band. I embarrassed myself. You would think I would be more careful since it was my idea to start this whole thing.”

“We made mistakes, and we’ll learn. This is good, it’s a good start,” Blaine said. “I’m glad we could have a mature, adult conversation. Now that that’s out of the way, what was it that you wanted to know?”

“Just how your night out was, if you want to share that is. Maybe I can live vicariously through you.”

“It was uneventful,” Blaine said with another shrug. “I had a few drinks and came home. Sorry you couldn’t go out.”

“Yeah. It’s okay. Sounds like I didn’t miss much anyway.” Kurt forced a smile, but he was screaming in agony inside.

-s-

Kurt had never been grounded in his life. As an only child of a widowed parent, he’d had to grow up much faster than most of his peers. Left alone for long periods of time as a teenager, he had to learn to cook for himself and fend for himself. It wasn’t so bad, especially after he’d joined the glee club, spent more hours at school and away from home, and made some friends to keep him company. The fact was that Kurt Hummel was not a troublemaker, had always been honest and well-behaved, and the house arrest he’d been placed under was making him particularly grumpy. He found himself sulking around the apartment, lethargic, sprawling himself across the couch, staring absently at the television or his tablet, desperately trying to keep himself occupied and amused. He’d never felt such a brand of frustration in his life, to have only a single wooden door and his conscience separating him from freedom and the great big city.

After breaking the rules once and witnessing what he had, Kurt believed it was a sign, a punishment dealt through karma. He knew his manager, who now felt a lot like the mom he didn’t have growing up, was right and had his well-being in mind. So he did his best to suck it up to serve his sentence, trying to make himself forget that he was an independent twenty-two-year-old college graduate - who’d just been grounded for the first time in his life.

With all the extra free time, Kurt found himself surfing the internet often and for hours at a time, a sedentary activity he hated himself for having to partake in. But there was so much stuff out there, information, gossip, and the most far-fetched stories and articles he’d ever encountered. Many of those articles were about him and Blaine. Social media was swarming with some of the most terrifying statements made by fans and professionals alike, but Kurt devoured them, not stopping until a freshly published story popped up in his search, the headline of which caused him to freeze, an ill feeling creeping up on him.

**Sebastian Smythe Strikes Again: See Pictures From His Night Out (and in?) With Up-And-Coming Musician Blaine Anderson of Desperate Measures**

Underneath the headline, it read:

_What would his “best buddy” and bandmate Kurt Hummel think? It might explain Kurt’s recent absence from the public eye..._

His eyes flicked rapidly from left to right as he scanned the article, scrolling down as he read through. Once he was finished, he was thoroughly convinced and didn’t bother, nor did he have any interest in, clicking through to read additional versions of the story from other sources. The pictures at the top were enough evidence on top of what Kurt had seen with his own eyes.

The anger had subsided; he lacked the energy. Kurt was on the verge of tears he was afraid wouldn’t cease if he let himself finally fall apart and give into the emotions held tight in his chest. Instead, he was going to confront Blaine, call him out for lying and for being a hypocrite, because this was the final straw.

-s-

There was a knock on Blaine’s bedroom door, and he rose from the seat by his keyboard to answer it. Kurt was standing on the other side, looking dejected and disheveled, his tablet in hand.

Kurt gripped the tablet to his chest. “Can we talk?”

“Are you okay?”

“No, not really.”

“Come in. Sit down.” Blaine gestured toward his bed, and Kurt took a seat on the edge.

“Your face is all over the tabloids.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Seriously? What are they on about now?”

“Why did you lie to me?”

Blaine faltered. “What are you talking about?”

“You were with Sebastian Smythe last night. Is that what you consider ‘uneventful’?”

“Ah, I get it now,” Blaine said. “Is that really what you’re upset about? Wait a minute. Why do you even care?”

“I don’t care who you choose to screw, but I thought we were trying to keep these vultures off our backs. Hanging out and going home with an A-lister is not exactly keeping a low profile.”

“You think I -? Oh my god. Okay,” Blaine said. “You believe every word of that garbage, don’t you.”

“I have reason to believe it,” Kurt said. “Did you or didn’t you then, Blaine?”

“It’s none of your business,” Blaine said. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”

“Fine.” Kurt tossed his tablet down onto Blaine’s bed, the article he had been reading still open on the lit screen. “Have a look then at what everyone thinks of you right now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when it comes back to bite you in the ass.”

Kurt left the room, closing the door with more force than was necessary.

Blaine stood and retrieved the tablet, the first thing catching his attention a picture of him and Sebastian. He skimmed through the article, scoffing at the report of his supposed one night stand, until he couldn’t read any more and turned the screen off, setting it aside on his nightstand. He laid back in his bed, stretching out, and then rested his palms on his belly as he stared at the ceiling.

He hadn’t slept with Sebastian. He had no intention of sleeping with that self-centered prick, or any fan or celebrity who threw himself at Blaine, but Kurt was truly convinced that he had, and from the way he was acting, Blaine thought Kurt might actually be jealous. Could it be possible? Did Kurt have feelings for Blaine?

It was almost funny now, when he really thought about it. The tables had turned. When Kurt was traipsing about with Elliott and rubbing their relationship in Blaine’s face, Blaine was suffering silently, wishing he was the one on Kurt’s arm instead. But now the ball was in his court, and Kurt believed he was somehow involved with someone, a person he most likely viewed as a major threat. And why wouldn’t he? Sebastian was attractive, at least superficially, but Blaine wanted more than a physical relationship with someone, and, although he did find Kurt handsome, strikingly beautiful, and indescribably sexy, there was much more to Kurt, layers upon layers of things he admired about him. His sense of humor. The way he laughs. His selflessness. The way he cries and isn’t afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve. His ambition and the way he chases after what he wants in life. His talent. His insecurities. His everything.

Maybe this was what Blaine needed. Sebastian could be the key to finally winning over Kurt if he played his cards right. Maybe it was wrong, but if Blaine could make Kurt understand how he’d felt when he was in his place, perhaps they could finally meet on common ground, settle the score once and for all.

So he wouldn’t deny the rumors. Keeping Kurt guessing and his imagination running wild was all Blaine needed to win the game.

-s-

Kurt beamed, soaking in the applause, a thin rivulet of sweat coursing down the side of his face by his temple from his hairline. He brushed his hair off his brow, creating a visor with his hand to look out into the audience, a sea of colorful faces. It made his chest swell with pride to see familiar faces, fans in attendance that he recognized from show after show. He lowered his hand, squinting a bit at the light, and then shuffled off the stage.

Blaine had already headed back toward the green room, and Kurt followed close behind, quickening his pace to catch up with him.

Kurt grabbed Blaine’s shoulder to get his attention, and Blaine turned. “Hey. That was fantastic. Couldn’t you feel the energy in the room? We killed it, and I have such a post-show buzz.”

“Yeah, but I’m dying of thirst.” Blaine grabbed a bottle of water off the table of refreshments provided to them by their team and proceeded to chug it, wiping his mouth when it was nearly empty.

“I’ve been so nervous about our upcoming show at Bowery Ballroom, but after tonight, I’m feeling really good about it.”

“We sold out the ballroom, Kurt. I don’t know why you’re even worrying about it. We’ll just keep doing what we do, and everyone will be happy. Speaking of being happy, I’m gonna go get a drink, one with some flavor and a kick,” Blaine said.

“I’m coming too,” Kurt said, tagging behind Blaine out the door and through the long hallway that lead from backstage to the main lounge.

They managed to make their way to the bar without getting noticed, but once they were ordering their drinks, a few small groups began to swarm on them, mostly young women. They took a few selfies with fans, trying not to make too much small talk, and then they began to clear out, leaving Kurt and Blaine to fully enjoy their drinks in relative peace. But after the wave of women came a man who went straight to Blaine’s other side, taking a seat at the bar and turning to catch his attention.

“Looks like you already got a drink, so it seems you should be the one buying me one.”

Blaine raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Just a joke. Name’s Rashan by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Rashan,” Blaine said politely. “Thanks for coming out tonight. We really appreciate it.”

Kurt continued to drink, playing with his straw, keeping his head down and pretending not to eavesdrop.

“It’s hard to stay away. I love your music, and the cute instrumentalist is a perk.”

“You flatter me,” Blaine said. “Did you want a picture?”

“I was hoping for something more valuable. Your time. Only a few minutes.”

“I’m here, and you’ve had my attention.”

“I meant, maybe going somewhere else.”

Blaine glanced over his right shoulder at Kurt and then looked back at the man.

Kurt would’ve killed to know what was going through Blaine’s head in that moment.

“Let’s get out of here then.”

Kurt watched in stunned silence as Blaine got up and followed the man out to the street, their destination unknown.

He lost his appetite even for the drink, which he left on the bar with a handful of bills he hadn’t bothered counting. It didn’t even matter. Kurt’s heart felt like it had been impaled, his stomach swallowing up what remained of the mess inside his chest, and he couldn’t think straight.

First it was Sebastian and now this stranger. He was fuming, trying to wrap his head around what had just taken place. He was jealous. God, was he jealous. Something about Blaine had latched onto him years ago, burrowing deep down inside of him and planting itself, and Kurt could deny it proper exposure, had tried to smother it, but it was like a vine, snaking upward and outward and winding itself around every vital organ, clutching his heart, worming its way into every one of his thoughts, branching out, its roots expanding, not dying, but growing greener, more vibrant every day, every time he looked at Blaine, always so close yet so far out of reach.

Kurt couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t go on without Blaine knowing the truth. This charade needed to come to an end before it was too late, and it was possible that it already was, but he’d lost enough already to not take the chance. He’d had enough of pretending, pretending the he was okay, that he now had everything he’d ever wanted, that the band’s success actually meant anything at all.

So he'd proven to himself that he could do it. Kurt always knew he was capable of achieving anything he put his mind to. Was he somehow more worthy of the praise of others now?

Performing didn’t matter anymore. He’d give anything to go back to a time before he even conceived of the ludicrous idea to become something he wasn’t. Back before NYADA and New York, before he and Blaine had even uttered a single word to each other.

He still would have pulled over in that torrential rain, offered the new kid a ride and a tow, free of charge. He still would have made dumb jokes just to see Blaine smile and to hear him laugh, played music during their rides to and and from school and sang and danced around in his seat until he finally got Blaine to sing along too, and shared everything he did with Blaine, every dream, every fear, and every secret, every moment of pain and absolute bliss, every loss and triumph.  

Fame and fortune was tempting, filled with decadent pleasures, a constant outpouring of love and praise from an abundance of total strangers, the luxury of getting paid to pursue a passion, but if Kurt could go back, he would have chosen love. He would have chosen happiness.


	9. Chapter 9

The set up at Bowery Ballroom was even more magnificent than Blaine had imagined and from all he’d heard of the place. When they arrived, Kurt had headed straight back to his personal dressing room, but Blaine hung back, wanting to check out the stage and scope out the house. The venue was the largest they would play yet, although still intimate, having a capacity of nearly six-hundred, and they’d sold out the show. There was a wrap-around balcony area, gorgeous wall-to-wall hardwood floors, an elegant bar area below the stage and two additional cash only bars, and the stage itself was something worthy of a Broadway show, though not quite large enough to accommodate most.

It was standing room only, and it was going to be packed. People were already lining up outside, and doors were about to open.

Blaine took a deep breath and then headed backstage to prepare for the show.

There wasn’t much Blaine had to do to ready himself, and he watched the time tick closer to start, rising up out of his seat in the lounge to see what was taking Kurt so long.

Blaine knocked on Kurt’s dressing room door, and Kurt reluctantly let him in.

“What do you want.” Kurt’s arms were crossed, his head cocked to the side, and he wore a contemptuous expression.

“Do you not see what time it is?”

“I am aware.”

“Well, then why aren’t you dressed and ready? What’s taking you so long?”

“Nothing. I’m not going out there,” Kurt said with a shrug.

“Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?”

“You did. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’ve decided not to perform.”

“And why, pray tell, are you doing this? This is a big night for us, Kurt. There’s a packed venue, and you’re choosing this very moment to go full-diva and refuse to perform? What’s going on with you?”

“If only you knew,” Kurt scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning away, but Blaine grabbed his arm, spinning him back around.

“Don’t, Kurt. It’s obvious I don’t know what’s causing you to act like this, and that’s why I’m here, attempting to figure it out and get you out there with me before we lose all our fans and our entire music career goes to shit before we can even begin to make a real name for ourselves. We’ve already made our fair share of mistakes, and this would be strike three for sure.”

When Kurt turned back around, Blaine could see his eyes were glassy, and he sniffed the air, getting a whiff of Kurt’s breath.

“Have you been drinking -? Never mind, that’s not important right now. What’s important is that I need you, and I need you to pull through for me - for _us_.”

“Oh you do, do you? You need me? _You_ , Blaine Anderson, need _me_? Well that’s just too bad. I’m not going out there, and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”

“Maybe not, but I’m not giving you a choice. We’re a duo, Kurt, and that’s exactly what our fans are expecting, and it’s exactly what we’re going to give them. Now, c’mon.”

Blaine tugged on Kurt’s arm, but he pulled out of his grip, swinging his arm toward Blaine who swayed to dodge it, and stepped back in a huff.

“What don’t you understand about ‘I’m not going out there’?” Kurt walked toward the vanity and dropped into the chair, facing away from Blaine. He took a swig from a well-concealed flask, stashing it again.

Fresh wave of searing frustration surging through him, Blaine moved quickly, coming up behind Kurt, and slammed his fist on the counter, rattling the items atop it and causing Kurt to jump.

“Why are you being so goddamn unreasonable, Kurt?!”

“Because you’re being an ass. You must be blind if you can’t see it.”

“Blind to what? What can’t I see?”

“Blind to what’s going on here. You can’t see why I don’t wanna go out there and stand next to you, appearing like everything’s fine, because it’s not. Things haven’t been fine for a while. Everything’s been a mess, and I’m not okay, because I - I...”

“You what? You what, Kurt? Why don’t you just come right out and say it? Stop keeping everything bottled up and just come out with it - ”

“I’m in love with you, you idiot!”

Blaine stared at Kurt through the mirror, blinking, incapable of finding the words to respond. He wasn’t prepared, never would have imagined that those words would be the ones that Kurt spat at him in the midst of a heated argument. A punch to his jaw or gut would have come as less of a surprise, yet Blaine felt blindsided and just as winded when the words hit.

After a long stretch of silence, Kurt rose to his feet, turned to face Blaine, and when he spoke again, his voice was shaking like he was biting back tears.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeated more calmly, “and I can’t hold it in anymore, because it’s destroying me - I can’t keep watching you with other people like, like that _scumbag_ Sebastian Smythe - it hurts too much.”

Blaine took a step forward, entering Kurt’s space, but Kurt held his ground.

“Then why...why did I have to watch you date that asshole Elliott?”

“Elliott is not an asshole, and are you freaking kidding me? It’s not just Sebastian and whoever else you’ve been with recently. I had to go through high school watching you with Jeremiah and that Eli kid you met online, for christ’s sake - and I stood idly by and accepted that we, we were just friends, just best friends.”

“What about Chandler and Adam, huh, Kurt?”

Blaine was so close now, Kurt could feel his breath hot against his face.

“I didn’t even date them. It was just flirting, and I didn’t like them. You had _boyfriends_ , Blaine, and I was never good enough, would never be good enough for you, so I welcomed any attention I could get. It was like I was invisible, nothing to look twice at, and I waited, hoping that one day you would finally...” He shook his head and paused to catch his breath.

Blaine’s nostrils flared, his pulse spiking at the confession, blood pounding in his ears, and he stared Kurt down as if he would somehow be able to see through his eyes and into his mind to find the answers to the million questions he had. Kurt stared back almost as if challenging him, not breaking eye contact, unwavering, and he hoped Blaine could see the torture he’d endured all this time and how his heart had always yearned for him.

“But I was stupid, I’m so stupid -”

“You’re not stupid,” Blaine cut him off, fighting the impulse to grab Kurt, to touch him, almost as if to tell him that he was there, close, wanting to be closer, wanting to give Kurt everything he desired. “Listen to me, Kurt. I’m hopelessly in love with you. It took me time to realize it, but I’ve been in love with you since we were _sixteen_.”

Kurt froze at the startling confession, and it hung heavy on the air, the atmosphere suffocatingly tense. Blaine couldn’t hold back any longer, and he closed the small gap between them, catching Kurt’s lips and kissing him hard on the mouth. He’d wanted this, _needed_ it. Had waited forever, a lifetime. They’d wanted this, countless hours wasted wondering. They had it, it was all theirs now, everything. Kurt melted into it, dissolved, kissing Blaine back with as much fervor, and it became rougher, more desperate as Blaine’s hands found the back of Kurt’s neck and head and Kurt’s wrapped around Blaine’s hips, thumbs pressing hard the material of his pants into tender skin.

Blaine stepped forward, slotting his leg between Kurt’s, and he guided him backward until his back was pressed up against the wall. Now everything was overwhelmingly Blaine, the heady scent of his skin and hair, the firm press of his chest and body flush against Kurt’s, moving, hips rolling against him, his mouth, hot and wet, moving unceasingly, hungrily against his, fingers tangled in Kurt’s hair, pulling him ever closer. 

“These pants are too tight,” Blaine muttered into Kurt’s open mouth as he continued to attack his swollen lips. One hand remained snaked around and up Kurt’s back, fingers laced in the hair above his nape, while the other hand ventured south, nimble fingers popping open the button of his fly and yanking down the zipper that was arced by the bulge beneath it, Kurt’s hard, aching cock pressed and straining against it.

Kurt gasped and let out a low whine as Blaine curled callused fingers around his cock, his grip tightening, and began to pump, fast and rough and dirty. Kurt panted into Blaine’s mouth, unable to form or articulate coherent thought, his entire body aflame with white-hot pleasure. It was all heat and sensation, and Blaine’s mouth, and his hand, moving, twisting just right. It felt good, really really good. _Amazing_. Kurt bucked his hips forward as an intense wave of pleasure spiked through his body, spilling thin streams of come out over Blaine’s fist, too soon. It was over too soon.

Blaine’s mouth was now on the column of Kurt’s neck, sucking gently, tasting the salt of his sweat as he gently tucked him back into his pants, carefully pulling the zipper back up.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Blaine breathed against the heated skin of Kurt’s neck.  

"Give me a handy?" Kurt teased, his lips curling into a smirk.

Blaine laughed, his voice deep and gruff. "No, kiss you, you jerk. But that was nice too."

"If I recall correctly, you're the jerk," Kurt said, making a lewd gesture with his hand and biting his bottom lip.

"Shut up."

"I love you," Kurt said, his voice light and airy.

"Okay, now _that_ you’re allowed to say."

"Hey..."

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I - I just never thought I'd ever hear that from you. At least, not directed towards me.” He smiled. “I love you too."

Kurt grabbed the damp front of Blaine’s v-neck tee and drew him in for another kiss, much slower and sweeter this time, more in sync, now that all desperation and frenzy had subsided. They were allowing themselves to cherish and revel in the moment, but then Blaine suddenly jerked back, and they jumped apart when the door of the dressing room swung open and their manager barged in.

“You two need to get out on the stage. Pronto!”

Her eyes raked over the two of them, standing there like deer in headlights, wrecked and disheveled and undeniably guilty. She gave them a knowing look and a nod and then politely backed up out of the room and closed the door.

Kurt began to laugh, and Blaine joined in, until they had to stop to catch their breath again. They put themselves back together the best they could in a comfortable silence, preparing to do what they’d come here to do.  

Together, they made their way out of the dressing room, toward the wing of the stage.

Kurt held his hand out to Blaine at his side. “Are you ready?”

Blaine took it, interlacing their fingers and stroking Kurt’s with his thumb. “Always.”

They stepped out onto the stage, into the spotlights, hand in hand, to a roaring crowd of hundreds of eager fans.  

They shared a look that held every promise and answer they’d been seeking and then broke apart, Kurt moving to take to the mic and Blaine to retrieve his guitar so the concert could commence.

Kurt spoke a few words of welcome.

And then they jumped right into the music.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, social media exploded, and, consequently, so did Kurt and Blaine’s phones, which they promptly silenced for the sake of peace and quiet time to themselves, to talk, to catch up, recuperate and rebuild, promising only to answer if it was their management on the other end, as if they had a choice.

News stories, gossip articles, pictures, videos, and fan accounts of the concert were circulating, wild tales spreading rapidly, some more accurate than others, yet, no one knew for sure what was truth or fabrication. Not a single person’s musings had been confirmed.

It didn’t matter, though. The passionate masses were now wholeheartedly convinced of the legitimacy of the relationship between the members of Desperate Measures. Simply put, they believed they were in love.

Blaine’s Twitter mentions were through the roof, and they only climbed more and more with each passing day during the week following the soon-to-be legendary performance.

The inevitable call from management came through, and a time and location had been scheduled to finally address the rumors, a meeting which Kurt and Blaine were now preparing for, all nerves, but with each other for reassurance and encouragement.

Kurt tightened and adjusted Blaine’s bowtie, brushing his hands down the shoulders of his jacket and running them down his arms to his hands, slotting their fingers together and gently grasping them in his.

“There. You’re all done,” Kurt said with a grin, tugging him a little closer. “You look as handsome as the day I first saw you.”

“Don’t you think we’re overdressing just a little? I mean, it’s only an interview with a music publication.”

“An interview with a _major_ music publication, during which we’ll be required to address some very big and important recent developments,” Kurt said, raising his eyebrows at Blaine.

“Alright, but only for you,” Blaine said.

Kurt leaned in and pecked Blaine on the lips, looking up at him through his eyelashes as he pulled back.

“I keep going over and over the answers in my head that we were told to give, and it’s tiring trying to ‘remember’ the facts correctly.” Kurt looked into the mirror, checking his hair one last time. “Wouldn’t you rather just go in there and be completely open and honest with whatever questions they may throw our way? I think it’s about time we were.”

“I agree, as long as we still exercise a reasonable amount of caution,” Blaine said.

Kurt pivoted back around. “Of course. Regardless, we’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” He shivered as if something unpleasant crossed his mind. “Jeez, the words ‘press release’ still sound kinda scary.”

Blaine laughed. A truer statement had rarely been spoken.

Blaine followed Kurt toward the front door, hesitating before stepping out over the threshold behind him.

“If they ask us to tell them our story, how would you tell it?” Blaine said.

The question gave Kurt pause, but only briefly.

“I would say that it was love at first sight, but both of our vision was obscured by a relentless autumn storm that only recently cleared, freeing us and letting us have our spring.”

“That was really beautiful, Kurt. Tell me, why haven’t you been the one writing the lyrics to our songs?”

“Because that just came to me, and, I don’t know. Up until recently, no matter how hard I thought and tried, I could never find the right words.”

Blaine gazed into Kurt’s eyes, a proud grin on his face for the man he loved and vowed to himself to never forget to cherish again, for all eternity, and, for once in his life, he felt tongue-tied. He thought about how much everything had changed, but, in a way, how nothing had really changed at all. Deciding words weren’t necessary to show what was in his heart, he took Kurt’s hand, and they headed out, linked, inseparable once more, and stronger than ever before.


End file.
